My cell rang as I was getting in the Bronco. With no preamble, Guidry said, “Where are you?”
I gave him Reba’s address, and he said, “Stay put. I’m in the area.”
Three minutes later, his Blazer pulled up at the curb. Except for a certain pink tinge to his eyes that said he’d also missed some sleep, he looked as calm and collected as always. Natural linen jacket, pale blue open-collared shirt, dark blue slacks, woven leather sandals, no socks. Guidry’s clothes are always wrinkled just enough to say they’re made of fine fabrics woven by indigenous artisans, and he wears them with the casual ease of one who’s never known the touch of chemically created threads.
Conscious of being sweaty, cat hairy, and damp from parrot bathwater, I waited while he pulled a sheet of mug shots from a manila envelope.
He said, “You recognize any of these guys?”
They were all young men, all with various looks of sulky rebellion. Three of them looked like the guys who’d come in Reba’s house looking for Jaz.
I touched their faces. “I can’t swear to it, but I think they’re the ones who came in on me.”
“Okay.” He put the pics back in the envelope.
I said, “Well?”
“One of them is the guy whose prints were on the jar. An eighteen-year-old from L.A. named Paul Vanderson. He and the other two have records going back several years. They’re out on bail right now, charged with killing a sixteen-year-old in a drive-by shooting in L.A. The fingerprint people were able to match Vanderson’s latents to some that were in the house where the homicide occurred here in Sarasota. With that confirmation, they compared latents in the house to the other two names, and they matched too. Good job getting the prints, Dixie.”
I preened a little bit. If I’d had any, I would have pulled some feathers through my beak.
I said, “So what do you do now?”
“We look for them. When we find them, the LAPD will want them first. Their drive-by shooting trial is next month. If they’re convicted of that, they’ll spend the rest of their lives in prison. If they’re not, they’ll still have to stand trial for the homicide here.”
Thinking how close I’d been to human beings capable of such mindless violence made my temperature drop.
Guidry said, “The girl is the first link to them, so that’s where I’ll start. You said the woman’s house where the girl is working is around here?”
“Next street over. I’m going there now.”
“I’ll follow you.”
I got back in the Bronco and moved toward Hetty’s house, acutely aware that Guidry was behind me. I wondered what he thought about seeing me, or if he was thinking of me at all. Probably wasn’t, since he was there as a homicide detective investigating a murder, not because he wanted to see me. I felt like an idiot for even wondering about it, but that didn’t make me stop.
Being somewhat involved with a man was like being in a foreign place, an alien world in which I didn’t speak the language or know the local customs. With Todd, everything had been gradual and easy, moving from friendship to lovers to marriage in an easy arc that felt familiar and right on every level. But that had been before I knew how love can grow so that losing it is an amputation, how forever after you have the phantom other still attached. I had let my anguish go, but I would never be a fully individual self again. Todd would always be a part of me, like my DNA.
Nevertheless, I remained exquisitely conscious of Guidry’s eyes on me, and I was absolutely certain that his feelings about me were as conflicted as mine were about him. He’d had a wife once who’d betrayed him. Perhaps it was difficult for him to trust again. He had a comfortable life as an uncommitted man. Perhaps he wanted to keep it that way.
At Hetty’s driveway, I pulled into it and turned off the motor. Before I got out of the car I ordered myself to put every thought about Guidry out of my mind. We were here to keep Hetty safe and to get information about Jaz, not for me to trip over some maybe romance that was no more substantial than a moonbeam. With my mind firmly made up, I slid out of the Bronco to join Guidry.
9
Carrying the manila envelope with the mug shots in it, Guidry looked at Hetty’s house with the quizzical expression of one who couldn’t decide if he was seeing sweet sentimentality or sly irony. I rang the doorbell on the magenta-painted door, and watched Guidry tilt his head to look up where pale pink walls of the sheltered enclosure met a dark shade of burnt orange at the ceiling. The overhead light had a globular shade as starkly white as the low iron Victorian bench beside the door. The bench held a golden yellow basket from which red impatiens spilled. Hetty dresses in cool neutrals, but since she’s an exceptionally brave and confident woman, she surrounds herself with color.
I heard faint footsteps that stopped for a few seconds before Hetty answered the door, and I knew she had taken those seconds to look out the peephole. I was glad she was taking precautions. After my experience at Reba’s house, I thought it was smart to be extra careful. She opened the door with Ben close beside her feet. Ben tried to wriggle through the opening and she knelt to hold him in place.
I said, “Hetty, is Jaz here?”
With both hands firmly holding Ben, she looked at Guidry with a suspicious glint in her eye. “Why?”
Guidry pulled out his wallet and politely exhibited his creds. “Lieutenant Guidry, ma’am, with the Sarasota County Sheriff’s Department. We’re investigating a murder and there’s a possible link between some of the suspects and a girl calling herself Jaz. Dixie told me she might be working for you. If she’s here, I’d like to ask her some questions.”
Hetty said, “A murder? You think Jaz had something to do with a murder?”
“I think she might know people who had something to do with a murder. She’s not in any trouble.”
I felt like hollering, “Don’t believe him! He’s a homicide detective! He’ll tell you any lie that works. If Jaz is in a gang that killed a man while they robbed him, she’s in big trouble.”
On the other hand, I didn’t want Hetty to be mixed up with a girl who might be in a gang of thieves and killers, so I kept quiet.
Guidry said, “Is the girl here, Ms. Soames?”
She cut her eyes at me when he said her name, because obviously I was the one who’d given it to him. But then good sense made her give a resigned sigh, and she rose to a stooped position with one hand on Ben’s collar and gestured us inside.
“I have coffee in the kitchen.” She led the way through her toffee-colored living room, then the dining room with its pale lavender walls, chalk-white trim, low-hanging wire chandelier for real candles, and its vibrations of laughter and smart conversation.
Every time I walked through that room, I vowed if I ever had another house, it would have a dining room just like Hetty’s. Not that I had plans for another house. My spartan apartment suited me just fine. Just if I ever did. Like if my apartment got too little for some reason. Not that I thought it would, but still.
Hetty’s big square kitchen showed more of her cavalier approach to color. Cherry red walls, yellow cabinets, and white countertops. A round, pedestaled table painted glossy purple, with black mule-eared chairs grouped around it. A kindergarten kid with a fresh box of crayons might have used those colors, but probably not with the same sophisticated effect.
Winston sat in one of the black chairs. Jaz sat in another, with an empty plate and a glass of milk in front of her. The plate had yellow vestiges of scrambled eggs on it.
When she saw me, the girl seemed to freeze. When she saw Guidry, she rose from her chair halfway between flight and indecision.
Hetty said, “Jaz, you remember Dixie from Dr. Layton’s office? She’s a friend of mine. She likes pets too. Actually, she’s a pet sitter.” Hetty’s voice was too high.
Jaz looked at Guidry and her eyes grew more wary. Even in wrinkled linen and sandals on his bare feet, Guidry had the aura of a cop.
Guidry said, “Jaz, I’m Lieutenant Guidry of the Sa
rasota Sheriff’s Department. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Jaz shot a hostile glare at Hetty.
Hetty said, “It’s okay, Jaz. He just needs some information.”
Guidry opened the manila envelope and laid the mug shots on the purple table. From his chair, Winston peered at them.
Guidry said, “Do you know any of these guys?”
One glance at the shots, and the girl went pale, with an involuntary jerk of her hand that knocked over the glass of milk. I grabbed the glass before it rolled off the table. Hetty scurried to get paper towels, and Ben ran to lap up milk splashing on the floor. With a quiver of disapproval, Winston jumped from his chair and ran out of the room.
Stricken, Jaz said, “I’m sorry!”
Hetty said, “No matter, it’s just spilt milk.”
Something about Jaz’s apology for knocking over the milk seemed so ordinary that it surprised me. Being genuinely contrite for making a mess didn’t seem to go with knowing gang members. It was more the way I would have reacted at her age.
In seconds, her face tightened into a closed mask.
After the milk was blotted up, paper towels were deposited in a wastebasket under the sink, and Ben was brought to heel by Hetty’s feet, Guidry said, “You know who they are.”
It wasn’t a question, but Jaz shook her head.
“I never saw any of them before. Who are they?” Her eyelids fluttered with the effort of sounding clueless.
Guidry said, “A man was killed night before last during a break-in and robbery. We have evidence that points to these young men as the perpetrators.”
She shrugged, and her face took on the look of bored adolescence painfully putting up with stupidity from adults. “So why are you telling me?”
Guidry studied her for a moment, then spoke very softly.
“They’ve been looking for you. Asking about you by name.”
I’ve seen kittens inhale in a startled jerk when something frightens them. A quick intake of breath and then they turn tail and run. Jaz made the same involuntary inhalation, and her eyes grew wide and trembly. She had been shocked and frightened just by seeing the boys’ pictures. Hearing they were asking about her had frightened her even more.
“I don’t know anything about a robbery, okay? And I didn’t have anything to do with anybody getting killed! Leave me alone! Just leave me alone!”
Sobbing, she turned to run, but Hetty caught her in a protective hug and held tight.
Over her head, Hetty said, “Lieutenant, I don’t think Jaz has anything to tell you.”
Guidry said, “The man you were with yesterday claimed to be your stepfather. Is he?”
With her face buried in Hetty’s bosom, Jaz moved her head up and down. “Uh-huh.”
“Mind giving me his name, and where the two of you are staying?”
Jaz turned her head and glared at him. “Why don’t you mind your own business!”
With a half grin, Guidry said, “Actually, this is my business. I just need a name and address.”
“We don’t live here.”
“Okay, where do you live?”
“It’s a secret, okay? I’ll get in a lot of trouble if I tell you that.”
For a moment, the kitchen went silent with all the possible implications of what she’d said. In that instant, Hetty loosened her grip, and Jaz spun away from her and tore out of the kitchen. The back door slammed against the wall as she wrenched it open, and then we heard the slapping sound of flip-flops on the paved walk around the side of the house.
Hetty put her fists on her hips and glared at Guidry. “That girl needs help, she doesn’t need to be bullied!”
Ben reacted to the anger in Hetty’s voice and yipped, which made Hetty squat beside him and stroke him calm.
Guidry sighed and picked up the mug shots from the tabletop. Sliding them into the envelope, he let a couple of beats go by before he spoke.
“Ms. Soames, some young men robbed and killed a man in his home here in Sarasota. We believe the same young men broke into another house yesterday where Dixie was. It was here in your neighborhood. They told Dixie they were looking for a girl named Jaz. Not too many girls named Jaz, so it’s a pretty good bet that she knows them. We have identified them as members of an organized gang who are under indictment for murder in L.A. We need to find them, and Jaz is the only link we have. Since she’s underage, we need to talk to her stepfather.”
Chastened, Hetty said, “I don’t believe Jaz is a bad girl, Lieutenant.”
“Good girls can get mixed up with gangs too, Ms. Soames.”
Hetty looked close to tears, and Ben made a quick puppy grunt of sympathy.
Guidry said, “When you made arrangements with Jaz to come work for you, did you get permission from her stepfather?”
Hetty’s face reddened and she avoided Guidry’s eyes. “There wasn’t time. I wrote my name and address for Jaz and gave her my phone number, but then he dragged her out without saying anything to me.”
Guidry said, “So he may not know she followed through on it?”
He was being tactful, but he was really asking if Hetty thought Jaz had sneaked away to see her.
With a note of asperity, Hetty said, “I don’t encourage children to disobey their parents, Lieutenant. But Jaz doesn’t actually seem to have a parent, at least not one who takes care of her. Her stepfather seems a hard, uncaring man. I don’t believe there’s a mother at all.”
“Why don’t you think there’s a mother?”
Hetty waved her hand at the table. “I gave her cookies when she got here and she gobbled them down so fast I asked her if she’d had breakfast. She said she hadn’t had anything since lunch yesterday, so I scrambled her some eggs and she wolfed them down too.”
Hetty seemed to take it for granted that if there were a mother in the house, she would have fed Jaz. She would have been shocked to know there had been lots of times when my mother had been too drunk to feed me and Michael.
Guidry said, “Any signs of abuse?”
“Not physical abuse, but emotional abuse is just as bad. Her stepfather seems like a verbal bully.”
In case Guidry had forgotten, I said, “And he has that underarm holster. He almost went for his gun when Big Bubba yelled at the vet’s office.”
Guidry said, “And yet he took an injured rabbit to the vet.”
Hetty and I looked at each other with the same Oh, I forgot about that! expression. Now that Guidry had reminded us, it did seem incongruous.
Guidry tapped the envelope on the table. “She didn’t say where she lives?”
“No, but I think she walked here, so it must be nearby.”
“If she comes back, would you call me?”
Hetty met his eyes with an unblinking challenge. “No, I won’t. But I’ll do my best to find out where she lives and what her stepfather’s name is.”
Guidry chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second and then nodded. “You might be able to get more out of her than I can. Just don’t get any ideas that you can save her by keeping her secrets. If she’s involved in gang activity, you’ll be obstructing an investigation if you protect her. If she’s not involved, you can help her to your heart’s content, but I still need to talk to her stepfather.”
With a brisk nod to me, he extended a hand to Hetty. “I appreciate your help, ma’am.”
Hetty allowed her hand to be swallowed in his for a moment, but I could tell she wasn’t squeezing back.
Guidry said, “I’ll let myself out.”
Hetty and I listened to the subdued closing of the front door and then we both dropped into chairs at the table.
Hetty said, “I just don’t believe that girl would be in a gang.”
I thought about the naked fear in Jaz’s face when she’d heard the boys were looking for her. She might not be in their gang, but she knew who they were and she was afraid of them. I thought about the tattoo on her ankle. Could it be the emblem of a rival gang? But if it
were, that had to mean Jaz was also from L.A. If so, what was she doing here? And why did her stepfather carry that gun?
Hetty said, “She’s such a scrawny, needy little thing.”
“I know, but don’t put yourself in danger. Do what you can to help her, but don’t endanger your own safety.”
Even as I said it, I wondered if there was a bigger hypocrite in the entire world than I was. At midnight, I would be walking with Maureen down a dark path leading to her private little gazebo by the water’s edge. One of us would be carrying a duff el bag stuffed with a million dollars, and somewhere in the darkness kidnappers would be watching us from a speedboat.
A bell rang in my head, the kind you hear in a prize fight when one boxer is stretched on the mat for the count. The kidnappers had threatened to kill Maureen’s husband if she told anybody he’d been kidnapped. If they saw two women with a duff el bag, they would know she had told. Maureen wasn’t the smartest person in the world, but she was smart enough to figure that out. She didn’t intend to go down that path with me, she intended for me to go alone.
When I left Hetty, I almost stumbled going down the drive to the Bronco. There comes a point when offering a helping hand to somebody in need becomes an act of rank stupidity, and I thought I might have reached that point. Like an automaton, I got in the Bronco and headed for the Village Diner. I wanted to eat everything in sight the same way Jaz had devoured the breakfast Hetty had made for her. Girls who don’t have good mothers are always hungry for a savior’s food.
10
At the diner, all the talk was about the heat. Across from me, three men were counting out bills for their tab and saying how it seemed hotter than any other summer they could remember. One of them took a scientific tack.
“It used to be that ninety degrees meant ninety degrees, but now ninety degrees is really about a hundred and five.”
One of his friends said, “That’s right. The Gulf is hotter now. Has something to do with sandstorms in Africa. One of the deserts. Sahara, maybe.”
Raining Cat Sitters and Dogs Page 7