I checked out the backsides of the various businesses until I came to a stop behind one. “This looks like his building, doesn’t it?” I asked my posse.
“I think you hit the jackpot,” Mom said. She pointed at the row of cars neatly parked behind the building. There was only room for four vehicles and an area for the dumpster that served the building. A back door with the name of the first-floor restaurant stenciled on it was on one side. Another back door was on the opposite side with no stenciling; that had to be the back door to the lobby. On the outside of the second floor was a fire escape landing, as I expected. Even the back of the building looked in excellent shape, and the area was clean. Titan definitely took care of his building; contrary to what he’d said, the neighborhood seemed peaceful and well maintained.
“That thing has to be his wheels,” Mom said. All four parking spaces were filled, but Mom was pointing at one car specifically. It was a charcoal gray Mercedes SUV with a personalized plate that made no mystery of who owned the vehicle.
We were out in the open. The minute Titan came out, he’d spot us. I looked into the rearview mirror and then both side mirrors. The narrow alley held no place to tuck into and wait him out.
“He doesn’t know your car, does he?” asked Lorraine.
“No,” I responded.
“It looks like there might be a parking space on the street just past the alley,” Lorraine pointed out. “Maybe if we park there, we’ll be able to see him without him seeing us.”
I barely looked at the space, but it was enough to see that Lorraine was right. It was the first one on the curb just beyond the alley to the left. It was ideally located for keeping an eye on Titan’s car, but not for getting into since we’d be going the wrong way to nab it. I moved the car forward anyway. At the end of the alley, after making sure the coast was clear, I pulled out onto the street, heading right, then put my car into reverse and started backing into it. A car came down the street behind me and stopped, waiting for me to make my awkward backward parallel-parking effort. Parallel parking is not one of my talents, and I will avoid it at all costs. Seeing how lopsided the job was, I pulled ahead and started backing up again for another try, the urgency of the situation adding to my frustration.
As I eased into the space, a young guy hung out of the driver’s window of the car behind me, an older black sedan. He made a rude gesture and yelled, “Come on, lady, get the car in there or move on. A blind man could park it better.”
I hoped Titan didn’t choose that moment to come out and look down the alley to see what the shouting was about. I also hoped my mother would hold her tongue and not cause more of a scene. Instead, she asked with heavy sarcasm, “Want me to do it for you?”
“No,” I snapped. I took a deep breath and gently put my foot on the gas while I turned the wheel. This time I made a smooth job of it, which was amazing with all the performance pressure. At least Lorraine had the good manners to button her lip. As soon as the car was out of his way, the kid in the car sped off, only to be stopped by the streetlight on the corner a few yards away turning red. Served him right.
Parked and settled, I looked over toward Titan’s car. His building was the third one down, but the buildings were small so we could see the tail end of his car from our vantage point. There was no way he could get into his car and drive away without us seeing him.
Even though the street ahead was busy with midday traffic, the alley was quiet and few cars came down the side street we were on. The three of us waited and watched, three sets of eyes on the back end of the Mercedes. Occasionally we took swigs from the small bottles of water we’d gotten from Titan, which my mother had had the presence of mind to snag on the way out the door.
“He’s taking a long time,” Lorraine said, breaking the silence after a few minutes.
“Maybe he’s packing up more than just his laptop,” I suggested. “Now that he knows Cydney Fox is dead, he might be worried that whoever he thinks is after him might step up their game, so he’s planning on taking off.”
“He could also go out the front,” Mom added. “He might think his car with those vanity plates would be too easy to spot, so he called a cab or one of those Uber cars.”
“That’s a very good point, Mom. So how can we check?”
“How about I go to the front and see if he comes out that way?” Lorraine offered.
It was a good suggestion, but I didn’t want Lorraine to tackle him in broad daylight. She swung between going ninja and being a wilting flower. Who knows which side of her would pop up if she saw Titan making a getaway? Mom must have been thinking along the same lines because she turned in her seat and said to Lorraine, “Okay, but if you see him, get the info on the car he gets into. Do not try to stop him. Got it?” With some reluctance, Lorraine agreed.
Lorraine had her back door open when I stopped her. “Hold up. There’s Titan.”
All our eyes turned to watch as Titan emerged from between two cars and made his way to the rear of his vehicle. Before he got there, the back lift of the SUV opened upward. He was carrying the document storage box, now covered with a lid, indicating he had taken the time to finish packing up. Over one shoulder was slung a laptop in a carrying case, and he’d changed into jeans and a lightcolored knit shirt.
I was about to start my car’s engine and put it into drive when Mom put a hand on my arm. “Wait,” she told me. She was pointing down the alley.
While we watched, Titan put the box and laptop into the back of the vehicle, but what had caught Mom’s attention was just beyond Titan’s location. The nose of a black car could be seen easing forward, not driven at a normal speed but crawling a few inches at a time like a lion about to jump its prey. Titan saw it too, but it was too late. As soon as the car moved closer to Titan, his head snapped back and he slumped to the ground right before our eyes. Someone jumped out of the car, grabbed the laptop and box, and tossed them into the vehicle. The car sped off—in our direction. The car was the same one that earlier had been stopped by my sloppy parking.
“Get down,” I said in a loud whisper, full of urgency. Mom, Lorraine, and I all ducked, getting our heads down and out of sight. With any luck the driver didn’t see us as he barreled out of the alley and headed left up the street.
Once we were sure they’d passed, we lifted our heads and glanced over at Titan. He was still on the ground. Yanking open my door, I jumped out and made a beeline for him. After shaking off her initial shock, Lorraine did the same, her long stride getting her there just after me. Mom took up the rear. By the time she’d arrived, I’d confirmed that Titan was dead. He’d taken two bullets to the chest.
“We need to call 911,” I said. “I’ll go get my phone from the car.”
“Way ahead of you,” Mom told me, holding up her phone. “I’ve already called them and said there’d been a shooting.”
Lorraine looked down at the second corpse she’d seen in two days. Her face was ashen. “I didn’t hear any gun shots; did you?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. They must have used a silencer or else we definitely would have heard something, as close as we were. So would the people in these buildings. Gun shots are loud.”
My first instinct had been to flee the scene. After all, Titan West was dead, so there was nothing we could do to help him, and I sure didn’t want Lorraine and my mother mixed up in another investigation. But leaving the scene would only make the police search us out as suspects. We’d been seen by the woman from the other office, too; while she didn’t have our names, I’m sure she could give the police decent descriptions. Also, our fingerprints were all over Titan’s office. Better to stay and tell them the truth: that we’d come to Titan’s office to ask him about Boaz Shankleman, my mother’s friend, and while we were getting ready to drive off we saw Titan get shot in the parking lot. Nothing more, nothing less, along with a description of the car we saw drive away. For good m
easure, we could throw in that Titan was nervous when we had arrived and that his door had been locked.
That’s the rundown I gave to Mom and Lorraine as the police and an ambulance roared into the alley in answer to the call that there had been a shooting.
There was no way Lorraine was going to make any flights today.
fifteen
We didn’t get back to our place until almost nine o’clock. All of us were exhausted, especially Mom and Lorraine, after all of the questioning by the Santa Ana police.
None of us was hungry, and when I suggested stopping for a quick late dinner or going through a drive-thru, no one seemed enthusiastic.
“You need to eat something, Mom,” I said to my mother. “You’ve hardly eaten all day. You too, Lorraine.”
“I’ll have some tea and toast when we get home,” Mom said in a small, weary voice. “Nothing else sounds good.”
“Will you let me put some peanut butter on that toast to give you a little protein?”
She nodded slightly. “I like peanut butter,” she said, perking up a tiny bit. “Got any jelly?”
“PB&J it is, Mom.” I looked over and gave her an encouraging smile. “Tomorrow we’ll look for Art. I’ll bet that’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Odelia,” she said. “I sure am. There’s still nothing on my phone from him.”
“After we get a good night’s rest, we’ll look into it with fresh eyes.” She returned a weak smile. I knew Mom was all done in because she didn’t fight me on this plan. If she were fully rested, she’d be insisting that we look tonight, no matter how late.
I looked into the rearview mirror at Lorraine. She looked barely awake. “You okay with PB&J?”
“Yeah, or some soup,” she answered. “But not much else.”
Mom perked up a little more. “Soup does sound good. Chicken noodle, or tomato soup and grilled cheese. Too bad Greg isn’t here. He makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches.”
I smiled to myself. My husband did make kick-ass grilled cheese sandwiches. Even when I followed his routine to the letter, mine came out acceptable but not great like his. He had the magic touch when it came to melting cheese and my heart, although I was worried at the moment that he was thinking about calling a divorce attorney.
When we pulled into the carport, Wainwright came rushing out his doggie door into the backyard. We could hear him whining and pacing on the other side of the fence as he recognized the car and our scents.
“Hold on, boy,” I told him in a low voice as I unlocked the back gate.
Poor Wainwright. He’d been left home most of the day, something he’s not used to, even though he had Muffin for company and a doggie door to use at his convenience. Muffin used the doggie door too, and even though she’s a cat, she showed no signs of wanting to hop the fence and explore the neighborhood, as we had originally feared she might. Guess she knew a good gig when she saw it.
I opened the back gate, then pushed the big, excited dog back so that Mom and Lorraine could come in before shutting and locking the gate again. When I saw how excited the dog was to see me, guilt weighed on me like an anvil. Not only was Greg gone, but Wainwright hadn’t even gotten his usual morning walk today. It made me even more glad we’d taken one the night before.
“Odelia,” Mom whispered as she entered the backyard, “there are lights on in the house.”
“Yes,” I confirmed as I made sure everything in the back was buttoned up for the night. “I left the light over the stove on, and one of the lamps in the living room is on a timer.”
Then I heard Mom and Lorraine gasp. Turning back to the house, I saw them huddled together and shuffling back toward me as a solid unit. Then I gasped too. Framed in the doorway, backlit by the low light from the house, was a man. It certainly wasn’t Greg, since he was standing. And whoever it was, was much smaller than Clark and didn’t seem to be suffering from any ankle injury.
While we were waiting to be interviewed by the Santa Ana police as witnesses to the murder of Titan West, I’d called Greg and gave him a synopsis of what had gone down and how there was no way we could put Lorraine on a plane today. To say he wasn’t pleased would be a gross understatement. He was still at the hospital ER. Clark had indeed broken his ankle. It wasn’t a bad break and the doctor was hoping it would heal without surgery. He was expected to be released soon. If Greg hadn’t been in a public place, I’m sure I would have gotten a loud and colorful earful. Actually, two earfuls, the other from Clark, but Greg said he was pretty groggy from painkillers. As soon as Clark was released, Boomer was going to take them back to Clark’s place. Poor Greg. What should have been an easy annual trip was turning into a nightmare with him at the center, the hub of a wheel trying to micromanage broken spokes. Still, I convinced him that we were all okay here and were merely witnesses in Titan’s murder, not suspects. The latter didn’t mollify him much because he kept arguing that we had no business in Santa Ana in the first place. The call ended with him saying Clark was being released and they would call later. That was five hours ago, and I hadn’t heard a word since. The silence worried me more than the arguments.
Staring at the person in the doorway, it struck me like a lightning bolt that Wainwright wasn’t barking at him. In fact, Wainwright seemed right at home with this stranger’s presence. I relaxed, realizing it wasn’t a stranger and thinking it must be Chris Fowler, Greg’s right-hand man from the print shop. Greg might have called him to look in on us, and Chris had a copy of our house key since he housesat for us when we traveled. Wainwright loved Chris, who wasn’t a big guy. “Chris, is that you?” I asked tentatively.
“Wrong, little mama.”
I gasped again and took several steps forward. “Willie?”
“In the flesh.” He chuckled. “I hear you three have been busy, so come on in and relax.”
Mom put a hand out and grabbed my arm. “Is that Mr. Carter?”
When Mom first met Willie Proctor, we’d palmed him off as Willie Carter, Greg’s cousin and the black sheep of his family that no one talked about. But my mother is no dummy. Earlier this year she’d pieced it all together and had researched Willie Proctor, discovering that he’d stolen millions from investors in his company years ago. Willie had paid the money back, but he was still a criminal hunted by the authorities.
“That’s Willie Carter,” she told Lorraine without waiting for an answer from me. “A distant cousin of Greg’s.” I saw Lorraine relax considerably as we made our way across the patio to the back door where Willie waited with a warm smile for them and a big hug for me.
“Is Sybil with you?” I asked after our embrace.
“No, she’s at home,” he answered as he got us bundled inside the house and closed the vertical blinds on the back slider. We usually left them open, but, as always, Willie was being cautious. I didn’t even know where home was for Willie and his wife, Sybil. “I was in Phoenix on business,” he continued. “Clark told me Greg would be in town, so I thought I could visit with him at the same time.”
It was no surprise to me that neither Greg nor Clark had mentioned this to me on the phone earlier. It was an unspoken rule that we mentioned Willie on the phone as little as possible because these days you never knew who was listening. Early on in our nutty relationship, Willie had wanted to make sure we never knew how to reach him directly or where he was or lived so that when the police asked us, which they often did, we wouldn’t have to lie. Before Clark went to work for his company, Willie just showed up, like a genie without us having to rub a magic lamp. Now Clark conjures him up when he’s needed.
“So they sent you when Clark couldn’t come?” I asked. I had put my tote bag down and was busying myself in the kitchen. Mom and Lorraine had opted for chicken noodle soup. I opened a couple of cans and poured them into a saucepan to heat while Willie stood at the counter. Lorraine was helping by getting out bo
wls, utensils, and crackers. Mom was seated at the kitchen table. She looked long past exhausted; as soon as she ate, I was going to try herding her into bed. Once the soup was heating, I tossed both Muffin and Wainwright some treats for being so good today and set out fresh water and kibble for both of them.
“I offered,” Willie said, “and it eased their minds. Aren’t you happy to see me?” He grinned. He looked good. I hadn’t seen Willie in a while. His hair was thinner and he was just as wiry as ever, but there was less of the hunted animal look about his eyes. He was tan and not wearing his usual glasses. Agewise he was somewhere between Clark and me, making him in his late fifties or on the brink of sixty.
“No glasses?” I asked as I stirred the soup.
“Laser surgery,” he answered. “I’d wanted to do it for years but never got around to it. Last year Sybil gave it to me as a birthday gift.” He smiled. He’d met Sybil while helping me get my mother out of a pickle, the first of many since she’d come back into my life. Sybil was divorced, and Willie was a widower. Both like to color outside the lines, making them well-suited to each other. About a year ago Clark had insisted on taking Greg and me to a luxury cabin in the mountains as a treat. When we got there, we found Willie and Sybil already unpacked and enjoying a cocktail. We had a lovely four-day weekend together, although I felt guilty that we had lied to Mom about Clark going with us. She might have wanted to come along otherwise, but we had sold it as a romantic getaway. We had taken Wainwright with us but shuffled Muffin off to stay with Mom.
“Sybil’s well?” I asked.
“Very well,” he said. “She says we need to plan another trip soon. Maybe someplace like Hawaii or Mexico.”
I smiled. “Sounds good.” I ladled soup into the bowls. “You joining us for dinner?”
“Thanks, but I already ate. I will take a beer, if you don’t mind.” Willie ferried the full bowls to the table while I snagged a beer from the fridge.
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