But it wasn’t as if I had anything better to do.
Eventually I picked up the phone and dialed Anita’s number. She answered on the first ring. “This is Nevada James,” I said.
“I’m so glad you called, Nevada. How are you?” Her voice was warm and inviting, like she’d just baked an apple pie and wanted to know if I wanted to have my slice with ice cream or a slice of cheese on top. Not that I’d have minded pie. Pie actually sounded pretty good.
“I think we should meet,” I said. “Alone this time.”
“I’d be happy to,” she said. “When would be a good time for you?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I can certainly do that,” she said. “I’m hosting a luncheon at the La Jolla Country Club at noon. You’d be very welcome to attend as my guest.”
“Alone means without other people around,” I said. “How about before that?”
“Come by my house for tea? Around ten?”
“That works for me,” I said.
She gave me her address, which was to a house in a gated community in Rancho Santa Fe. I didn’t expect it would be hard to find. I could just start following BMWs if I couldn’t find the neighborhood. “I’ll see you then,” I said.
“Thank you, dear,” she said. She hung up. I stared at my phone for a moment. What the hell had I just gotten myself into?
Chapter 5
The next morning dawned foggy and cool, which was typical for San Diego more days than not. The fog would most likely burn off by noon and the rest of the day would be frustratingly pleasant. I had a Diet Coke and half a bag of chips for breakfast. It was the most important meal of the day, after all.
After a cursory check of the parking lot I got in my Mustang and headed out to I-5, then turned north up the freeway. Rancho Santa Fe was a small community about half an hour north of the city. I’d heard that, demographically speaking, it was one of the wealthiest places in the country, but that really wasn’t something I kept track of. I did know that even with the money Alan Davies had paid me, I couldn’t have begun to afford a house there. Not that I’d really have wanted one. I wore jeans and t-shirts more often than not and tended to stick out like a sore thumb among more refined company.
A quick check on Google had told me than Anita Collins was an heiress, her great-grandfather having invented cars. Well, not cars. It had been some extremely important engine component. The technical part of it hadn’t really interested me. Checking her for a criminal background had been easy, and come up negative. The same held true for her husband and every member of their immediate family I could find. There was nothing that made me think they’d had any enemies, either political or personal. People had secrets, of course, but if Anita or her husband had rubbed someone the wrong way badly enough to put their lives in danger, that was something that was going to take a little more effort to dig up.
Anita’s neighborhood was in the hills, beyond a gate guarded by a uniformed man in a little booth. The guard looked to be in his fifties, with graying hair and a build that suggested he still worked out. He took in the Mustang and gave me a quick once-over. I expected him to tell me I was probably lost, but before I even had the chance to speak he said, “Good morning, Detective James. Welcome to Playa del Mar. We’re happy to have you.”
I stared at him. “Good god. Was that a guess?”
He hit a switch in the booth and the gate began to open. “I’m not that good,” he smiled. “We were told to expect you.”
“And you knew what I looked like and what I was driving?”
“I saw you on the news,” he admitted. “And I was a cop myself, back in the day. Traffic.”
He didn’t look familiar to me, but the odds weren’t great that I’d have recognized someone from Traffic, anyway. How did you end up here?” I asked. “You write one of the mayor’s buddies a ticket?”
“Honestly? This pays a heck of a lot better than being a cop did.”
That almost seemed hard to believe, until I thought about what I’d made as a cop. It hadn’t been a lot, and cops didn’t get Christmas bonuses from millionaires. Well, a few probably did, at least until Internal Affairs caught up with them.
There were only eight houses in the neighborhood, all of them sprawling Spanish-style mansions. Anita’s wasn’t hard to find. I pulled into the driveway, parking next to an immaculate Mercedes. My Mustang looked cheap next to it, but then again, so did I.
I was a bit surprised when Anita answered the door herself shortly after I rang the doorbell. “Good morning, Nevada.” She smiled warmly at me.
“I was kind of expecting a butler,” I said. “English accent? Overly starched tuxedo?”
“I don’t have a butler,” she said. “I never really felt the need. It’s just me here. Do come in.”
Anita wore a sleeved blue cocktail dress today, conservative but still fancy enough she’d probably turn some heads at the event she was going to later. I suspected the conservative aspect of the dress wasn’t born as much out of modesty as it was to cover what had happened to her body. I could see more burns near her left wrist where the sleeve ended. They probably went all the way up her arm.
She caught me looking and laughed pleasantly. “I’m afraid I don’t wear a lot of swimsuits anymore,” she said, tugging the sleeve down a bit. “Let’s go sit down. I made a pot of tea. Or…do you prefer coffee? I can put some on if you’d like.”
“Tea is fine,” I said. I was more interested in watching her kindly grandmother act at this point than I was in enjoying hot beverages. She led me into a sitting room, putting her hand on my arm at one point. The contact suggested both that we were old friends and that she might need the support. Neither of those things were true. She was good at this. I was willing to bet she’d had a lot of practice. I’d seen better liars before, though. Not much better, but once you knew what you were looking for, it got easier to spot them.
The sitting room was just off of the main staircase. We sat across from each other on blue couches that had probably cost more than my car. Between us she’d placed a silver tray with a teapot and china cups on a long wooden coffee table. I took a moment to look around; the room was lined with paintings of her family. Her husband had been a handsome man, provided the artist could be trusted not to have taken liberties with his depiction. Adam had been tall, well-built, and had a smile that could have melted ice. Anita’s curly-haired son watched me with blue eyes that had been frozen in time for twenty years. What would he be doing now, if he’d lived? With the advantages he’d had in life, he could probably be doing anything. I’d always had a soft spot for children. It had gotten me into a lot of trouble in the past.
Anita poured the tea into two cups and took one for herself. I ignored mine. “I like this room,” Anita said. “Sometimes when I sit here I feel as if I’m with my family again.” She sighed as if she’d just eaten a fine dessert. “I do so miss them.”
“I imagine you do.”
She gave me a warm look. “Do you have a family, Nevada?”
“You already know I don’t,” I said.
Her brow wrinkled a bit as she raised her teacup to her lips. “Did I? I don’t recall your saying.”
“The thing is,” I said, “I’m really good with masks. I’ve seen a lot of them. Why don’t you go ahead and take yours off now?”
Anita sipped her tea, took one small swallow, and then put her cup back down. We looked at each other for a long moment, her radiating the warmth and sincerity that must have dazzled so many, and then it went off like a light switch. Her kind eyes were gone. They were ice now. The contrast was so striking that if I’d left the room a moment earlier and come back in just now I might have asked this woman where her sister Anita went. This was nobody’s grandmother. This was a goddess of rage.
“Thank you,” she said. “I get so sick of that.”
“You’re very good,” I said. “It’s a little scary.” Anita didn’t look like she wanted to tuck me into bed anymore. She looked
like she wanted to murder everyone on Earth. Her voice was different now, too. It was deeper, hard, and edged like a weapon. I realized I’d been off on her age, as well. She was at least ten years younger than I’d thought.
“Nobody wants this,” she said, pointing to her face. “Nobody can handle this. They want their grandmother from the movies, so I give it to them.” She smirked. “What gave me away?”
“Monsters can always see other monsters,” I said. “But you knew that. It’s why you wanted me.”
She pursed her lips. “I might not have put it like that,” she said. “I barely remembered who you were before the other night, when I saw you on television. Then I remembered. You’re driven. You’re a hunter. Going after the Laughing Man nearly drove you insane, but you’re still out there doing it. That’s what I want.”
I glanced around the room. “Bringing me in here to look at pictures of your dead family was a nice touch. Tug at my heartstrings a bit?”
“That wasn’t a lie,” she said. “I do spend most of my time in this room. Don’t ever doubt my devotion to my family.” She nodded at a portrait on the far wall. The three of them were pictured standing together on a grassy field near a lake, with sailboats passing by in the background. “They were my entire life, Nevada.”
“That much is obvious. You’ve been sitting on this for twenty years, just…I was going to say burning but that sounds really crass. Sorry.”
“The word doesn’t bother me. It’s accurate.”
I shook my head. “Jesus. People tell me I need therapy. I mean, they’re right. I do, but…”
“Listen to your child burn to death and then come talk to me about therapy.”
“Fair enough.”
“So,” she said, “I was going to bring you here and see if you’d be willing to help this,” her voice suddenly rose an octave and she was grandma again, “poor old woman who lost her family find justice after all these years.” She shook her head and grandma disappeared. “But you’ve seen through that. I can offer you money, but I know exactly what Alan Davies paid you to find his daughter. You don’t need it.”
“Wait, you know Alan Davies?”
“He’s a major donor,” she nodded. “Through one of his front companies, of course. He likes to pretend he’s part of polite society. I danced with him once at a ball years ago. He was doing the dapper man bit. Everyone thought it was just so precious, the handsome young man charming the disfigured old lady.” For a moment she looked like she was going to spit on the floor. “Jason told me you were involved in the situation with his missing daughter, so I called him to find out what went on.”
“I’ll bet he was surprised when he heard your real voice.”
“I think he shit his pants is closer to the truth.”
I had to suppress a laugh. I’d have had to admit I liked this version of Anita a great deal more than the other. This was probably what I’d be like if I lived as long as her, but I knew perfectly well I was going to die long before I ever got old.
“So,” she continued. “I can’t appeal to you with money. I doubt I can make you feel sorry enough for a poor old lady that you’ll help me that way, either.”
“I’m wondering what you’re left with.”
“And I’m wondering if a child’s death would do it, because that’s what I’m left with.”
I leaned back on the couch. “That’s a dangerous card to play with me,” I said. “The fact that you’re old enough to be my mother isn’t going to stop me from punching you in the face if you cross the line.”
She nodded. “That’s your weak point, then.” She smiled grimly. “I was fairly certain, but you shouldn’t have confirmed it, dear.”
“Anyone who knows about the last Laughing Man case knows that’s my weak spot,” I said. “So that’s roughly…every adult in San Diego County with a television. It’s how Alan Davies got me to take his case. Of course, I was so drunk back then, I’d probably have done it for a case of cheap vodka.”
“Then I’m a few months too late for that,” she said. “I would have offered you expensive vodka, of course. Once you were done. I wouldn’t have wanted you drinking yourself to death before you did the job.”
“I was kind of kidding about working for vodka.”
“I know, but if that’s what it would have taken.” She shrugged. “I could appeal to your sense of justice. You were a police officer. My husband and my son were murdered, and their murderer is still walking free.”
“If he’s still even alive, which isn’t a given. It’s been twenty years.”
“I know he might be dead,” Anita said. “But knowing is worth something to me.”
I finally took one of the teacups from the table and sipped it. I wasn’t a tea person, and while I recognized from the smell that this one was supposed to taste like citrus, it tasted more like someone had managed to screw up boiling water to me. “Tell me,” I said. “What would you have me do if I found him?”
She rubbed at the scar on her face. “What if I said I wanted you to bring him here to me and then walk away?”
“I’d say to forget about it. I’m not going to be your executioner.”
“Nevada, tell me something. When you catch up with the Laughing Man, are you planning to arrest him?”
“I think you know I’m not.”
She nodded. “Then why should justice be any different for me?”
I thought it over. “You know, I don’t have a great answer for that. A long time ago I’d have said we need to believe in the system, but the truth is I don’t believe in it anymore. Or maybe I just don’t care about the system. When I find the Laughing Man I’m going to kill him. I’m going to do it as slowly as I possibly can. I’m going to make it hurt. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let you do the same thing. I guess that makes me a hypocrite, but that’s just how it’s going to have to be.”
Anita considered her tea. “Very well. Will you help me, though?”
“Say you’ll be satisfied with the system. Arrest and trial.”
She looked me in the eyes. “Arrest and trial.”
I held her stare for a moment, not sure if she was lying to me or not. Even if she was, she was never going to have a chance to be alone in a room with whoever killed her family. If she was crafty enough, she might be able to have someone killed in prison, but that was tricky, and one word about it from me to Corrections would put the guy in solitary confinement where he’d be untouchable.
“I’ll think about it,” I said. “I’m not saying yes or no yet. But I’ll think about it.”
Anita sighed. “I’ve been waiting long enough not to be in a rush. But I do hope you’ll think about it quickly. Time is a factor, if only in the sense that once the Laughing Man kills again, I know you’re not going to be taking any new cases.”
“Taking cases? Is that what I’m doing now?”
“Isn’t it? First for Alan Davies, and now hopefully for me?”
“I don’t have a license for this sort of thing, and after my stay in the psych ward I couldn’t get one even if I wanted it. It doesn’t really matter, though. There isn’t a law against going around asking people questions.”
“Would you care if there were?”
“No.” I sipped the tea, trying to pick up the citrus in it this time. If I concentrated, it tasted like hot water that had been sitting near an orange for a while. “Tell me this. Who do you think did it?”
“I was convinced it was the Unabomber, or a Unabomber copycat, but the FBI said there weren’t any known copycats. Now, I just don’t know.”
“Was your husband’s research public? Was it something I could have read about on the Internet.” I paused. “Was there Internet in 1993?”
“It was different then. Most of the world was still on dial-up bulletin boards. But no, my husband’s work was known mostly in the academic community. It wasn’t secret, but it would hardly have been accessible to the general public.”
“Did you or he have enemies? Te
ll me now, because I’ll just find out anyway and you’ll never hear from me again.”
“My husband was harmless, Nevada. He was a scientist. He…” her eyes took on a faraway look I knew she wasn’t faking. “He was a simple man. Brilliant, but simple. He thought he was going to build computers that would change the world. He believed technology would end famine, poverty, war…” She smiled wistfully. “He used to get so excited about it. I know he was probably naïve, but that’s who he was. And he never made an enemy in his life.”
“What about you? You’ve got a lot of money. Money usually comes with problems.”
“It’s my family’s money, and if my great-grandfather screwed anyone over to get it, it happened generations ago. We’ve been out of the business for decades. I hardly even know what a car engine looks like.”
“Any affairs?”
She smirked. “I won’t take offense that you asked. No. Not on my part, anyway, and I’d be shocked if Adam had.”
“So you don’t have a single suspect?”
“No.”
I scratched my head. “Okay, what about who gained financially? Artificial intelligence has to be profitable.”
“And someday it might have been, but I’ve had Adam’s work reviewed by people who are much smarter on the subject than I am. Adam was a visionary, but nothing he was building actually worked. Some of it might have, someday, but the field was still in its infancy. There was nothing in what he had done to steal. Nobody ran off and started a company with anything he did.”
“Well, shit,” I said.
“I know,” Anita said. “I’ve been at this for a while, Nevada.”
Scars (Nevada James #2) (Nevada James Mysteries) Page 4