by Helen Jacey
Lauder exhaled. ‘If it’s mobsters, do what you gotta. Cops? I’ll handle it. Stay silent. At all costs. Plead the Fifth, if it comes to that.’
‘Oh, great. A real good look in court. Or I could just kill myself before it gets that far?’
‘You’re not the type.’ But he glanced at me, and I could see the doubt in his eyes.
Faced with Holloway Prison or hanging, yes, I’d shoot myself. Would I do it to save Lauder?
Probably.
‘It’s funny. You said I was a natural investigator. You got my permit. But first job I get is off limits.’
‘Something else will show up. If you run out of dough, I can cover fifty a week. Not like she’s paying you a hundred a night.’
Damn. My lie had instantly backfired.
Lauder got out of bed. He looked down at me. ‘I didn’t want it to be like this. Are we done?’
I nodded. He was leaving on an order, and I didn’t like it, either. I also didn’t like the thought of facing Sonia Parker and telling her I was quitting.
But you’ve got no choice.
He grunted, picking up his pants. ‘What are you doing tomorrow? Got plans?’
‘Nothing special.’ I didn’t want his sympathy. I wouldn’t ask about his Christmas Day; I could see it anyway. Some grand Hancock Park mansion, a beautiful tree next to a roaring fire, and The Fiancée in some flowing gown. And Lauder, acting the prodigal son-in-law.
It made me want to retch.
‘Mrs. Falaise inviting you?’
‘Beatty’s gone sailing. And I wouldn’t go even if she asked. I’m looking forward to being by myself. Hotel’s nice and calm. I just don’t like Christmas.’
He was rummaging around in his pockets for something. I never tired of looking at his physique. He was muscular but his long legs and broad shoulders always looked skinny. Now he reminded me of a white gopher.
I flinched inwardly. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want to share him. Sexually, he was mine.
At least for now.
I hated him, too. Ugh! What a mess.
Rule Number One for female ex-felons. Don’t sleep with a cop who knows your past.
He found what he was looking for, stood up and handed me something. ‘Then I won’t say Merry Christmas.’
A small gift wrapped in tissue.
Another flinch. ‘What on earth is that?’
‘What does it look like? Open it.’
Why’s everybody buying you gifts? Why is he giving you a gift?
Luckily it was dark, because I blushed. ‘Well, I haven’t got anything for you.’
I tore the tissue open. Inside, a gold necklace lay coiled on the white paper, with a single pearl on the fine chain. Shouldn’t this go to Her? What was he up to?
I met his eyes. I said, awkwardly, ‘It’s pretty.’
‘Put it on.’
Did I want to? Did I have a choice? Lauder came around and lifted my hair. The clasp clicked. He stepped back and put a side lamp on. He admired it, smiling fondly. ‘It belonged to my favorite aunt, Jessie.’
‘Jessie for Jessica?’
‘Yeah. She reminds me of you.’
‘What, a nutjob?’
‘Just quit it for once, will you?’
I fondled the pearl. It felt surprisingly heavy, suspended on the chain. ‘Thanks.’
I should be more gushing.Is that what he expected? Wrong girl. And I was still bruised about being kicked off the case. He gave me a quick smile, before he started getting dressed. His braces dangled as he pulled on his shirt. I watched as he buttoned it up, slid his jacket on, and knotted his tie. When was he going to take a shower? I wouldn’t suggest he did now.
I wanted my scent on him, as much as he wanted this chain around my neck.
‘I’m going away. Two-week vacation. Skiing in Colorado. Sure looking forward to getting out of the city.’
What? I felt like a bee had stung me, a burn that takes you a second to process that something is happening and that something is pain. What was he doing, mentioning his other life? Skiing? Colorado? Cavorting in the snow?
You don’t want to know!
He glanced at me.
‘You okay?’
‘Sure.’
He bent down and kissed my lips. ‘So long.’
I watched him head for the door. The motel door slammed shut.
So long.
11
Nine o’clock in the morning and the sun was bright. My first Californian Christmas Day.
I’d got back to a very silent hotel in the early hours, knocked back a couple of brandies, and fallen into a deep slumber. Sonia’s call would be the closest thing I got to a good morning kiss.
Now, all over the city, kids were tearing presents open. Happy families everywhere, or maybe LA at yuletide was more like Barney’s version. Heart attack and infidelity city.
My only experience of family Christmases were during the few years I lived with Gwendoline, my foster mother. She would shower me in pointless gifts: an easel and a set of watercolors, a potter’s wheel, acting classes. I was overwhelmed; the gifts felt too good for me, but I played along. Her dream was for me to be the daughter she always wanted, to follow in her footsteps as an artist, or a performer. But I hated the limelight. I had no eye for art, my lines came out wooden and I was probably tone-deaf.
Gwendoline wasted a lot of money on a lost cause. Luckily, she remained blind to my weaknesses. She died happy, not knowing I would inevitably have let her down.
Just like Tatiana Spark.
I got up and made myself a coffee in the kitchenette and returned to bed.
I sat up, pulling the pillows up behind me. Why hadn’t I just shut up shop and left for the holidays? I could be in Miami by now or, even better, Havana. I’d have checked into a seafront hotel and be downing tropical cocktails. By night, I could gamble my pennies away. At least I’d have some fun before going bust.
And I would have missed Sonia’s call.
But I didn’t go. Because I owed Tatiana Spark, and until her case was solved, no way could I blow the stipend on vacations.
At least I didn’t have a turkey to baste.
I noticed the brass pendant lamp with the primrose yellow shade. A bulbous and ugly thing, dangling from three rusting chains, and probably installed when the hotel was built in the early ‘20s.
I’d told Barney not to bother fitting out my room, it was a waste of money. I’d given him an allowance for the main office and my back office. He’d done great with a painting, a piece of modern art from an artist friend in Venice Beach and furnishings from an insurance firm that was closing down.
Would it all prove a waste? Lauder had just snapped off my lifeline. How on earth did he think I was going to limp on? Take his money, and I would be little more than his whore.
I dreaded breaking the news to Sonia. By now, Hunter’s death would be front-page news, even on Christmas Day. The press would be waiting to descend on anyone and anything connected to the case.
I thought of Dolly—incarcerated, and likely to stay that way.
The incriminating pieces of evidence were still in my purse, by the side of the bed. I reached over and extricated them.
Maybe I should just burn them anyway and bin the lipstick? I was off the case, and nobody needed to know.
But I was curious. I pulled the lid off the lipstick tube. A stub of squished scarlet wax remained. The rest was messily encrusted inside the lid, smearing my fingers. The color was identical to that on my hankie. And it had been dark, but I was certain a similar shade had been ingrained on Dolly’s lips.
If it was a setup, somebody had been able to get pretty close to Dolly to pinch the lipstick. I wondered what Sonia would make of it.
Then I went into my bathroom. Barney never came back here, preferring to use the facilities for male guests, which were on the ground floor. I found my screwdriver and undid the back of the chunky scales, which I never used. I stuffed the blood-stained handkerchi
efs inside the mechanism and screwed the metal back on. Then I washed my hands, vigorously, rinsing away all remaining traces of Hunter’s blood.
Then I did it again, just to be on the safe side.
I ran a long, hot bath, chucked in a handful of violet scented bath salts and washed Lauder from my skin.
Five years in the joint could convert a cat to loving a hot soak. I lurched upright, remembering I still had the necklace on, splashing water everywhere. Ruining Lauder’s heirloom already! I pulled at the chain around my neck, squinting at the pearl.
An odd gift indeed in our relationship. A necklace? Did he think I needed to class myself up? That my jewelry, on the rare occasions when I did wear it, was too cheap?
I examined the pearl more closely. It was smooth as satin, creamy and luxurious. Where did it come from? Was it lucky or unlucky for the pearl to end up on my neck?
With me, it stood a good chance of being knocked around by life.
TRING!
Sonia, it had to be. I jumped out of the bath and grabbed a towel, half hoping it was Lauder, to tell me he had canceled his holiday, broken off his engagement and was heading over now to spend the day with me.
Stop it!
Sonia’s voice was crisp and a little tense. ‘I trust things went okay?’
‘Uh-huh. All good.’ I sensed Sonia was speaking in code in case of nosey operators, so I would do the same.
‘Anything of interest?’
‘Yes. We need to talk.’
‘I want to hear all about what happened, so I’ll stop by tomorrow. I’m on my way to the boondocks to visit my folks.’
A damn good seeing-to is what happened. And an order to quit your case.
‘I need to you do one thing. Go pay our girl a visit. She needs…reassurance, you know? So, Alice, when you get there, just say the truth. Give them your name, Alice Lucas, junior attorney at the firm. I appreciate you’re with your family today, but it’s kind of important. Say you’re in my team. I left some of the firm’s cards with your hotel caretaker.’
Cards? Alice Lucas, junior attorney? What the hell?
The penny dropped. Only an attorney could visit a felon. Sonia was telling me to visit Dolly as junior attorney-at-law Alice Lucas. Today.
No choice but to break the news. ‘I can’t… We’ve really got to talk.’
‘What’s the problem? You said you were free today. This is critical.’
‘I know, but…’
I just couldn’t say it. The words ‘I quit’ just couldn’t come out.
There was a long pause and a longer sigh from Sonia.
‘I know last night can’t have been…fun, especially on Christmas Eve, Alice. It was a lot to ask for a new associate. I’ll pay you double time.’
‘It’s not about the money.’
‘Well, what? Are you sick?’ She was losing patience with me.
‘No, I’m fine.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t imperative. I cannot emphasize enough that she needs to retain her…composure…and remember no…chitchat…without me present. I need to go to my parents’ facility. They literally have weeks to go. It’s their last Christmas Day. I’ll be back later, so I want her to see a friendly face.’
Sonia sounded torn, but she was a tough nut. Maybe there was a play underneath it all.
‘Sorry to hear that.’
‘We’ve all got to go sometime, but I’d rather some didn’t go prematurely and unfairly.’ Like Dolly, she was implying.
Dolly’s smudged mascara and her plaintive wailing came back to me. Sonia was right to be concerned. Dolly could be out of control and easy prey for a circling Detective Flannery. Presumably he wasn’t supposed to question Dolly before Sonia got back but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.
‘Okay, I’ll go see her.’ I heard myself saying.
What are you doing?
‘I’ll call you later. We’ll meet tomorrow.’
On that heart-warming note, she hung up.
I’d quit tomorrow. Face-to-face was always better. Lying came so easy to me. I’d give her some line about flying to Vienna for another case. Then, to avoid bumping into Alberta, I’d jump on the Sunset Limited to Florida.
That would be my reward for my good deed in checking on Dolly and telling her to keep her mouth shut.
Anxiety came back, a knife twisting in my guts.
I would be voluntarily walking into a police station.
Happy Christmas, Elvira.
12
Career girl’s clothes had colonized my closet.
The dismal palette of grays, blues, mushrooms and blacks outnumbered the few pretty frocks and blouses I owned. June’s red velvet gown now looked rather lonely amid the dull crowd.
What would Alice Lucas wear? She needed to be convincing and forgettable at the same time. I wanted the cops at the police station to let her in without batting an eyelid.
Alice would be a boring girl with no interest in clothes. I pulled out a crisp dark brown wrap dress in brown wool. Covered brown buttons were diagonally sewn across the body, over the hip. With a brown felt hat, I’d be suitably dull. Seamed stockings, and low brown brogues.
I looked at myself in the mirror. A sensible girl.
Should I wear the pearl necklace? A talisman to ward off any evil cops.
I put it back on.
To top it off, I put on my tortoiseshell glasses and stuffed my curls into a hairnet. The red polish would come off. Alice wouldn’t bother with it, or with make-up.
I’d pretended to be many things in my life, but attorney was a first. My outfit would be my armor against my fears.
Fear I was breaking Lauder’s command. Fear I would bump into reporters. They’d surely be prowling now, following the unfolding case, noticing new faces enter the station.
Fear they could hound me as someone close to the case, just as Lauder dreaded.
Fear we would both go down.
Fear I’d get there and be paralyzed. Alice Lucas wouldn’t sip from a flask of French brandy, but Elvira Slate would. I filled my small pewter flask in the kitchen.
Elvira would drive the car down; Alice would get out.
To my relief, nobody was outside the police station, a solid, square building.
Still, the absence of reporters did nothing to dispel the sick feeling in my stomach as I headed towards the entrance.
Suddenly, the main doors were flung open as a female bum, an old woman, was manhandled out of the building by a cop. He was young and harassed-looking, she was a growling, shaggy, graying thing. An ancient wolf. They struggled down the steps. She was in layers of dirty clothes, but something stuck out. A white fur stole was draped over one shoulder, the end of it dragging on the steps. I’d seen it before, just last night.
A fake white fur stole.
Dolly’s?
No mistake. But how had she got it?
The cop growled, ‘Go home, Annie! And I don’t wanna see you round here anytime soon.’
Now on the sidewalk, Annie was grabbing on to him for dear life, yelling. ‘That’s what I keep tellin’ ya. I got no home! Kicking an old lady out on the street, real nice that is. You treat you own mom this bad?’
‘My mom don’t glug a bottle or two of hooch every day!’
She lowered her voice, plaintive. ‘Gimme some of that nice milk you got inside, Officer. What do you say? The special stuff. Else I’m just gonna get the shakes! Then I’ll be good.’ She tried to put on an amiable expression.
‘You dried out last night. Why don’t you make it last? You’re lucky it’s the holiday or else I’d throw you back in the slammer!’
‘You fucking asshole! You’re all the same.’
‘Oh, that’s a nice way to talk. Very ladylike.’
‘You don’t care about me. I’m gonna die in the gutter. What do you care?’
The cop raised his brow at me. See what I gotta put up with? Annie disgusted him. She was old, hair grew out of her chin, and she stunk to
high heaven. I smiled back, more out of relief he saw me as an ally.
Thanks, Annie, for making me look like the respectable one.
Out of nowhere, the cop gave Annie a shove and turned around to mount the steps into the building. Annie staggered, losing balance, and fell on her knees.
The officer was already in the doorway, heading in.
I felt for her. He didn’t have to do that. I had a horrible feeling he pushed her because I had shown up. Impressing a younger woman with macho bravado.
Think again, asshole.
I ran over to her. ‘You okay?’
Annie was cursing inwardly, picking herself up. She rubbed her arm where she’d fallen. Her knees were grazed, her thick stockings ripped. Her unlikely hat, a small red pillbox with a net, had managed to stay on her unwashed gray hair, scraped into a messy bun. A section of the hem of her old long dress was hanging down.
Annie shrugged off my arm, shooting me a vicious look. ‘What in hell you starin’ at?’
‘Relax! I wanted to check you were okay.’
‘Oh, screw you, too!’ She staggered off.
I watched her go. Annie probably had her fill each day of pity as well as hate. Do-gooders like Alice Lucas probably just rubbed salt in the wound.
I could end up a bum. I was full of bad seeds, just waiting to sprout like the hair on Annie’s chin. Somehow, I was managing to cling on to the bottom rung of society’s staircase, with the help of Beatty and Lauder. They thought I was worth it. And I had the assets of youth and an okay face. Annie had nothing going for her. She could die on these streets and everyone would say, ‘She brought it on herself.’