Kevin nodded. “Yes. He has third shift. Our shifts overlap by about thirty minutes every evening. Same with the morning shift and mine—there’s always a small overlap so that one of us can do a quick walk of the property while the other’s there.”
“Who did the walk of the property last night and the night before?” I asked.
“I did, both nights,” Kevin answered. “Usually it’s the one going off shift who does it. I like making the rounds,” he added. “It gets the kinks out before I go home.”
“Is that the only time you leave the booth?”
“Pretty much,” he answered. “The guard shack is a decent size, with its own small bathroom and mini fridge, and we have a TV. Some of us will leave it to walk around the front of the property, but we don’t go far in case a visitor or a delivery comes up.”
I leaned against the door and again thought about Greg and his ranting about cooling the great outdoors, but it was obvious Kevin had no plans to come in. With each question he was edging back inch by inch. “I understand the security camera at the front gate is on the fritz. Is that also true?”
He nodded and shifted back a baby step. “Yeah.” He paused, then added, “A complete upgrade has been in the works for quite a while, but between the homeowners’ association and management it’s been bogged down for a few months—over cost, I think.”
“They want to put cameras all over the place,” Mom chimed in, “and a lot of the residents feel it’s an invasion of their privacy.”
Now that there’d been a murder on the property, I wondered how many of the dissenting residents would line up to welcome a more extensive security system.
I smiled at the guard. “One more question, Kevin. Did you see Cydney Fox come to Seaside the other day, the day of her death? Or weren’t you on duty when she arrived?”
He gave this question some thought as he scooted back again, ready to make his escape on the promise it was my last question. “I remember her coming through the gate. It was about my dinner time. She must have Mr. Shankleman’s passcode or someone else’s because I never had to call and announce her like a normal guest whenever she visited.”
“Thank you, Kevin,” I told him. “I really appreciate you answering my questions.”
“You’re not going to tell Seaside I talked to you, are you?” he asked with worry. “We were told not to talk to anyone but the police.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “No one in this house will squeal on you. We’re not exactly fans of Mona’s.” I glanced back at Lorraine, Mom, and Willie. All of them nodded their agreement of silence, including Willie, who hadn’t even met the woman.
Kevin went down our walk at a good pace and climbed into a small sedan parked at the curb. I looked up and down the street, trying to spot Willie’s bodyguard but couldn’t, so I shut the door.
Envelope gripped in my hand, I returned to the kitchen. Lorraine and Mom had resumed their spots, and so had Willie. I ran a fingernail under the sealed flap, and everyone gathered around as if it was a notice that we’d won something. But if this was from Mona D’Angelo, then, if anything, it was a booby prize.
My eyes scanned the neatly printed formal letter, signed by Mona in her official capacity at the bottom. As I read, my blood pressure spiked, rising with each concise word.
“What does it say, Odelia?” Mom asked.
“It says,” I began, then stopped to take a deep breath, which I held and let out slowly. “It says that the management of Seaside Retirement Community, and I quote, ‘in the interest of the safety of its residents, held an emergency meeting and determined Lorraine Littlejohn, granddaughter of resident Grace Littlejohn, to be a threat to the well-being of the community.’”
“It says that about me?” asked Lorraine, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“It does,” I confirmed as I skimmed the letter again. “Furthermore, it says that you are banned from stepping foot on the property of Seaside, even as a day guest.”
Lorraine put her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. “I’ve never even been thrown out of a bar, not even in college. Or from a movie theater for talking.”
“Don’t you worry, Lorraine,” Mom said, giving Lorraine’s arm a comforting pat. “I’ve been thrown out of a lot of places. Think of it as kind of a badge of honor—like that Hawthorne fellow’s scarlet letter.”
Willie and I stared at Mom, then at each other. He was clearly amused. I was not.
“Mom’s right,” I said, folding and stuffing the letter back into the envelope with righteous huffiness, “at least about the not worrying part. We’ll straighten this out, and you can stay here as long as you want. You too, Mom.”
My mother poked the envelope that now lay on the table. “Does that thing say I can’t live there anymore?”
“No,” I answered, “it doesn’t. And as I recall from the regulations of the place, they can’t outright evict you since you own the townhouse, but they can take you to court and try to force you out.” I paused. I didn’t want to worry Mom, but we did need to be realistic in case Mona became that nasty. “I’ll have Steele look over the regulations for you.”
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” Lorraine said. The poor thing was near tears. “I shouldn’t have climbed through that window.”
“Oh, honey,” Mom said to her gently, “it’s not your fault. I should never have encouraged you.” Now that was something I could get behind, but I kept my mouth shut.
“You two look beat,” I said to Mom and Lorraine. “Why don’t you turn in?”
With a tired nod, Mom got to her feet. Lorraine followed, and the two of them wandered back down the hallway. Once they were out of earshot, I said to Willie, “I’m going with you.”
“When?” he looked surprised.
“Tonight.”
“Like hell you are!” His voice might have been barely above a whisper, but there was no mistaking the force behind it. “What happened to you not caring about those murders, just with finding Grace’s friends?”
“I changed my mind. I’m a woman; it’s what I do.” I got up and finished putting the dinner dishes into the dishwasher. “If you’re going to see Simon Tuttle, I want to be there. I want to see for myself if he acts all squirrelly like Oxman did.” I turned, pointed a finger at Willie, and shook it to make my point. “And I think we should stop by Seaside and check out Art’s place. Nighttime would be best for that since apparently their guards are asleep at the wheel during that time. Mom has a copy of Art’s key. I’m pretty sure I know where she keeps it.”
“And if I say no?” he asked, leaning back in his chair casually, as if I’d just said I wanted him to go shopping with me.
I wiped my wet hands on a dishtowel. “Then I’ll just go without you.”
“And what about them?” He pointed in the direction of the hallway.
“They’ll be fine here by themselves,” I told him. “Both will be out like lights in ten minutes after the day we’ve had, but if you’re worried, you can always leave your bodyguard here to watch over them.” I moved over to the table. “Like we agreed earlier, I won’t tell if you don’t.”
Willie got to his feet and entered my personal space. I’m only five foot one or five foot two, depending on my slouch. Willie was only a few inches taller and probably fifty to sixty pounds lighter, but he was still intimidating. He wasn’t a killer like my friend Mother, the hit woman, but he did work in and understand dark underground circles. Still, I did not back up. I held my ground, turning to grab my bag and car keys from the counter. “Ready?”
“And what if Grace and Lorraine discover you’re gone and decide to go out on their own?” he asked. “You know that would occur to Grace in a heartbeat.”
I spied Mom’s car keys on the counter and scooped them up with the hand that held my own car keys. “Not if I take their wheels.” I held my key-filled h
and out to Willie with pride.
Too much pride, because in a swift grab of his own, he’d cleaned my hand of both Mom’s car keys and my own and shoved them into one of his pockets. “Go to bed, little mama. I’ll give you a full report in the morning.” He gave me a small crooked grin. “I promise.”
“But what about Art’s place?” I asked, tamping down my frustration. “Aren’t you going to look there?”
“We are, but don’t worry, we’ll get in without the spare key.” He stepped forward and gave me a brotherly peck on the cheek. “I promised Greg and Clark that I’d look after you, and that does not include allowing you to run all over town with me.”
Instead of going out the back, Willie headed for the front door. Wainwright got up and followed him, tail wagging, to say goodbye. At the door, Willie bent down and gave the friendly dog a healthy rub behind the ears. “Keep an eye on her, Wainwright. If she tries to leave, bite her.”
sixteen
Simon Tuttle lived in an ordinary apartment building in Newport Beach. What made it extraordinary was that it was right on the beach. It was about fifteen miles south from Seal Beach, where we lived. Unlike Oxman, Tuttle must be doing okay moneywise. Although the building wasn’t fancy, its location would demand a pretty sizeable rent. It was a tidy two-story building with just four apartments, two upstairs and two downstairs, painted seashell pink. A carport with slots for four vehicles faced the street, giving all of the apartments an ocean view.
Peeking between Tuttle’s building and the one next to it, which was similar but painted a soft seafoam green, I could see that a wide public walkway separated the building’s miniscule front area from the public beach, and a low fence delineated the end of the building’s property, which was a small front patio. It was the same with the building next door. It seemed to be a common setup. During the day it must be very noisy with all of the summer beach foot traffic, but at least public access to the beach didn’t run past the building on either side. I had noted when I arrived that the public access was a few buildings down. The public beach was closed for the night, so there were few people around to compete with the calming sound of the waves. I stopped and breathed in the warm, salty air. We live near the beach, but this was the beach, one of my favorite places.
I knew Tuttle’s apartment was unit B and hoped that meant it was downstairs. It would be easier to sneak around and check it out if it were, but first I went back to examine the car port, where there were only two cars parked. I had no idea what Tuttle drove and looked for some sort of identifier linking the individual spots to specific apartments. There were none. Crap!
I started back down the narrow walkway between the two buildings, then stopped halfway, just before a downstairs window, and listened. Next to it but a little higher up was a tiny window of frosted glass. These were most likely bedroom and bathroom windows, but of which unit I couldn’t tell. Both were dark, and the bedroom window had the blinds drawn shut. A soft light came through the corresponding windows on the next building, and I could hear someone taking a shower. I’d keep my blinds shut too if I were this close to my neighbors. I stretched my arms out and could easily touch both buildings with my palms flat against them. I made a mental note to be super quiet. Not only were the buildings closer together, but being this close to the beach it was probably a good guess that none of them had central air and relied upon open windows and sea breezes for relief from the August heat.
There was no way I could identify unit B without going to the front. It could even be on the other side of the building, which would make the dark apartment window I was under unit A. But once I knew which apartment was his, then what? I wasn’t sure. Should I just knock and start peppering him with questions when he opened the door? Or would he, like Oxman, have already taken off? Or maybe he was out somewhere kicking back a few beers, oblivious to the disappearance of Shankleman and the murder of Titan West, although the murder had been splashed across tonight’s news, along with the murder of Cydney Fox and the disappearance of Shankleman, who was being sought for questioning.
Many possibilities scurried across my mind, including that of finding a dead body inside. Decisions. Decisions. My heart told me to turn and go home. My nosiness and determination to get to the bottom of things kicked me in the ass and got me moving forward again, foolhardy or not.
From the moment I arrived, I had been on the lookout for any sign of Willie or any car doing surveillance on the building, including the bad guys. I’d spotted nothing but didn’t think Willie and his people would be out in the open waving flags. Finding no one at home, Willie already might have come and gone. Finding Tuttle at home, Willie might already be inside pumping him for information. As for anyone sent to pop Tuttle, well, I didn’t want to think about that beyond hoping they would just wait for him to leave and not come to the apartment. I thought about watching Titan being gunned down in broad daylight and shivered even though the night was warm. Outside of using silencers, they weren’t that subtle.
Go home, Odelia, my inner voice pleaded. Go home, curl up with Muffin and Wainwright, dream pleasant dreams. Let Willie handle this. I was still debating this when a hand clamped over my mouth, and I was grabbed from behind.
I struggled to break free. Kicking back with my legs, I connected with flesh and bone but not hard enough to make a difference. My efforts didn’t even produce so much as a grunt from my attacker. Another arm from behind wrapped around my body, pinning my arms to my torso like a boa constrictor. I tried to scream through the tight fingers. It came out like a soft sexual moan. Not the sound I was trying for. Oh gawd! The Armenian gang had come for Tuttle and found me lurking instead. If it was the same guy as the driver in Titan’s hit, he’d recognize me for sure—and a bullet would be put in my brain for sure. I almost fainted in fright.
My assailant turned me around with a small two-step so I was facing Tuttle’s building, but he stayed behind me, still holding tight. Another man stepped in front of me. In the narrow space, the three of us were cozy, sandwiched between two stucco buildings in the dark. I shivered and felt tears starting to well in my eyes. The man in front of me leaned forward like he was going to sniff me.
“If Buzz lets you go, little mama, will you be quiet?” he asked in a barely audible whisper. My legs nearly turned to jelly in relief and I nodded up and down with fast, short jerks, my eyes wide as they tried to focus in the dark to confirm the voice’s identity.
The hand slipped away from my mouth, and the vicelike grip relaxed from around my torso but kept hold of my upper arm. Another silent gesture from Willie, and the man behind me started guiding me out of the walkway and back toward the street, using the hold on my arm like a rein on a horse. I tried to jerk away, but he only tightened his grip and urged me forward. I half expected him to gently kick my flanks.
“I didn’t see you,” I whispered to Willie. “I thought you’d come and gone.”
“Shhhh,” Willie said.
The three of us quickly exited the space between the buildings and headed across the street to an older black SUV. I was deposited in the back. Willie climbed in after me. The guy named Buzz took the driver’s seat.
“I told you I should have asked for her spare key too,” Willie said to Buzz. From my spot behind him in the dark vehicle, the driver’s hair appeared black and thick, his skin dark. Instead of turning around, Buzz looked at me in the rearview mirror and chuckled in agreement. From the little I saw in the reflection, I guessed him to be young, in his late twenties to early thirties, and with sharp, dark eyes.
“FYI,” I said with sarcasm, “when you took my keys, you also took the spare keys I had to Greg’s van and my mother’s car. My car’s spare key is with Greg in Arizona. Believe me, more extras will be made and hidden in the house, starting tomorrow.”
Both Buzz and Willie chuckled, but it was cut short when a car coming down the street slowed down near Tuttle’s place. They watched the
vehicle, the inside of the SUV thick with anticipation, until it turned into a carport a few buildings down. Then the air lightened as the tension deflated.
“So how did you get here?” Willie asked. “I know you didn’t walk. Did you enlist Mike Steele or your friends the Washingtons?” He glanced out the window, expecting to see my ride waiting for me.
I shook my head. “I took Uber.”
The air inside the SUV grew tense again, then both Willie and Buzz broke into soft laughter. “You took Uber to get here?” Willie asked with surprise.
I slipped a hand inside my purse, which was a small cross-body style I’d grabbed out of my closet at the last minute, choosing it over my usual big tote for convenience. It was just big enough to hold some cash, ID, and my cell phone and keys, if I had them. And when it was worn cross-body, it kept out of the way of any movement and even deterred thieves. I used it whenever we went places with large crowds, like concerts or amusement parks. Considering how I was grabbed, it was a good thing I had it or else my belongings would have ended up strewn all over the walkway.
The small bag even held a small canister of pepper spray—something Greg had bought me ages ago for my safety but which I seldom carried, much to his dismay. Whenever I did have it in my purse, I was always worried that I would spray it accidentally and end up doing my purse or me more harm than a bad guy. But tonight I thought it might come in handy and grabbed it from my nightstand drawer on the way out. I fingered the pepper spray, thinking about Mom and her switchblade. I guess we all have our security blankets. If the guy who grabbed me hadn’t pinned my arms or snuck up on me, I might have managed to nail him with it. Or not.
Instead of the pepper spray, I pulled out my cell phone, I held it up to show its face. “See,” I said to Willie, “the app is right there on my phone—easy peasy. But I will take my keys back.” I held out a hand to Willie. “You also took my house keys.” When Willie hesitated, I wiggled my extended fingers. “Come on.”
Rhythm & Clues Page 15