Blues at 11

by Rebecca Grace

  This didn’t look good and it would look worse on the evening news—Queen Downs Debutante in Bathroom Brawl. Outside the chapel, TV cameras waited for my exit, but in minutes the crush of photographers would rush the door—the minute word of our skirmish reached the street. I couldn’t walk out that front door now, not with my fancy hairdo feeling like a leaning tower and water drops staining my suit.

  With attention focused on Bobbi, I pushed through the gathering crowd and hurried around the corner. Spying a door, I jerked it open. It led outside to the side of the chapel. A single figure stood on the sidewalk talking into his cell phone.

  Hank glanced up as I stepped through the door. I was so focused on him I didn’t see the step and stumbled.

  “Are you all right?” He was beside me in an instant, taking hold of my elbow to steady me.

  I drew a shaky breath. At least I saw no accusation in his eyes, or maybe he saw the stark terror in mine. “Can you get me out of here?”

  He released my arm like I was hot.

  “Look, Hank, in a minute that door is going to burst open and a horde of photographers is going to rush out looking for me. You’ll have to give the press conference to explain—”

  He reached up and touched my hair. This time I jerked back, but he smiled as he held up a wrapped tampon.

  “Some hairdo,” he said, but he took my arm and guided me down a narrow brick walkway along the side of the chapel. We skirted the building until we reached the back of the stone structure. “Wait here and I’ll bring my car around.”

  I drew deep breaths to calm my anxious nerves as he disappeared around the side of the chapel. Shouts reverberated from somewhere in the distance and my phone vibrated at my waist. I jumped and fumbled with it, seeing Reba’s number appear on the ID screen.

  “Where are you?” Her voice rang with agitation. “Someone said there was a catfight in the john, and I was afraid you might be in it.”

  I forced my voice to a calm level. “I ran into an old friend. Where are you?”

  “Headed for the john, of course. Are you over that way?”

  My watch read quarter to five. This was not the time to test Reba’s loyalties.

  “No, but don’t worry about me. Do what you gotta do. I’ll get a ride.” I clicked off.

  The purr of a car engine sounded around the corner, and I held my breath until a black car with tinted windows slid into view. The front window lowered so I could see Hank in the driver’s seat. I slid into the passenger seat and slumped back against soft leather. He hit the door locks and raised the window. Sanctuary! I doubted anyone could see inside the smoky windows.

  The car wound down a drive behind the chapel and along a wide avenue surrounded by elm and fir trees. Forest Lawn Cemetery in suburban Glendale was a maze of roadways along grassy rolling hills and before long the chapel was behind us.

  Only then did I begin to breathe normally. I tugged at my hair, which felt like it had been hanging around my head since my tiff with Bobbi. I found a brush in my purse and began shaking out the knot. Two more tampons fell into my lap.

  I glanced at Hank, whose eyes were fixed on the road. “Thanks for the lift. I know you’re trying to keep away from me.”

  A muscle in the side of his lean cheek jumped. “I know I was tough on you the other night. I almost called you to explain.”

  He couldn’t say he was sorry, not Hank the Hard Ass, but his attitude bordered on apologetic. I wasn’t about to make remarks that might anger him, so I didn’t reply. I concentrated on my stiff hair.

  Two police cars whizzed at us from the opposite direction, followed by two TV trucks heading toward the chapel.

  “I hope I’m not getting you into any trouble,” I said.

  He glanced at his rearview mirror. “This is Glendale’s circus.”

  I twisted in my seat to see what was happening. Above us, near the chapel, people moved in frenzied motion. Police cars and TV trucks jockeyed for position.

  “I didn’t hit her. She threw things and I knocked them away. Some flew back and socked her. Clearly a case of self defense.”

  “Self... Damn!” He hit his palm against the steering wheel and fixed me with fierce blue eyes. It was like being in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. “I didn’t realize anything had occurred. This isn’t right. I shouldn’t have removed you. We should go to the Glendale Police Department so you can give a statement.”

  I should have known better. Reba was a better person to trust. Hank believed in being a cop before being a friend. “Can’t I give it to you?”

  The tension in his jaw didn’t waver. “No, and ducking out like that won’t look good.”

  “But nothing happened!”

  An ambulance with sirens flashing came around a corner, going up the hill. Despite Hank’s harsh demeanor, I suppressed a laugh at the thought they were there to fix Bobbi’s lipstick-ravaged, tear-stained face.

  “All that for a flying tissue cover? She should have ducked or deflected it like I did. The kid may be young but her reflexes aren’t as quick as mine.”

  “Is that what happened to Rick Wells?” he asked, voice deadly serious.

  I clenched my hands into fists but held them to my side. “You are such a royal prick.”

  He exhaled sharply. “You’re right. That was uncalled for. Where shall I drop you? There’s a coffee shop ahead. You can call a cab and return to pick up your car or better yet, call Glendale police.”

  “I came with Reba and told her I had a ride. You can drop me off on your way home.” I’d left Lindy’s car at the station as we planned. Maybe if I offered to buy Lindy dinner she would return my car when she took her evening break.

  “I’m not going home,” Hank said. “I have to pick up my dad at Glendale Hospital. He’s taking medical tests, which is why I went to the service.” He tipped his wrist to check his watch. “I’m twenty minutes late.”

  The tower of the hospital loomed straight ahead. “Let’s go get him.” I liked Sam Patterson and I hated to think of him waiting. “What kind of tests?”

  “Just a check up. He had a heart attack two years ago.”

  “Fine. Drop me at the hospital. I can grab a cab home from there.”

  “You’re offering to make a sacrifice?” He feigned surprise.

  Fighting the urge to snap at him, I summoned a smile instead. “I like your dad. He’s a nice guy, unlike his son.”

  “I didn’t have to help you.”

  “I suppose not. Why is everyone so eager to come down on me?” I sounded like a petulant child, but that’s how I felt.

  He cast a quick glance at me. “Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘the bigger they are, the harder they fall?’ People love you when you’re up, but they pile on if you slide.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  A quick laugh erupted from him, but I saw no trace of humor in his eyes. “I’m not used to you feeling sorry for yourself.”

  Neither was I. The Queen didn’t grovel. Straightening my shoulders, I sat up straight and peered out the window in defiance. “You’re right. Screw them all!”

  Hank didn’t reply and we remained silent until he pulled up near the side entrance of the main structure beside a tall, lanky man.

  It took a minute to recognize Sam. Though he was at least six feet tall, he looked shorter, or maybe it was the hunched shoulders. He shuffled toward the car in small steps. He was thinner than I remembered and his face was gaunt and lined, his wavy hair a shocking white.

  With a grunting effort, he crawled into the back seat. His light blue eyes came to life when he saw me. He reached over the seat and squeezed my shoulder with surprisingly strong fingers. “Kimmie! What a great surprise. I’d hug you if I could.”

  “And I’d hug you, Grandpa. You’re looking sexy as hell.”

  Unlike his wasting body, his robust laugh hadn’t diminished. “Don’t feed me that crap. I look like hell, girl. I’ve lost so damn much weight, eating all this good shit, I might as well be
dead. No whiskey, cigars, no T-bone steaks. Who the fuck wants to live like that?”

  I laughed, but as I looked into his alert eyes, I realized that his mental faculties had not faded one bit. The new lifestyle was probably better for him, but he wouldn’t admit it. He’d been big before, his midsection forming a paunchy barrel. Now he looked lean but wiry.

  “Life is hard, Gramps.”

  “Are you coming to dinner with us?” He leaned forward, sounding like a kid begging to make a stop at the candy store.

  “I’m taking her around the corner to get a cab,” Hank said.

  “Oh, hell no. I’ve been fasting all day. You gotta feed me, and I want good company. Female company! If you don’t want to join us, go to hell, but I’m having dinner with Kimmie.”

  The idea of food appealed to my growling stomach. I hadn’t been able to eat before the service, and I was ravenous.

  “I’d love to have dinner with you,” I said, watching Hank’s knuckles on the steering wheel turn white with tension.

  Sam tapped Hank on the shoulder. “There’s a coffee shop around the block. I’ll see she gets home safely if you don’t want to come.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to...” He shot me a venomous look, probably wishing he’d left me at the chapel. “Do you promise to call Glendale Police?”

  I offered up a playful salute. “Aye, aye, mi capitan.”

  Sam was one of the few people I’d ever seen overpower Hank and he dropped further protests. Following Sam’s orders, he turned onto a tree lined street. His cell phone buzzed as he parked.

  Sam and I left Hank speaking in low tones on the phone and entered the low slung building. Bright to the point of garish, the coffee shop was a page out of the 1950’s. Orange vinyl booths with speckled Formica table tops lined one windowed wall alongside a long counter with orange stools. It might be considered retro, except everything was probably installed when the style was fashionable.

  A plump young woman in an orange uniform greeted us and waved us toward a booth after a personal hello to Sam.

  We settled in and ordered iced tea.

  Sam glanced outside where Hank paced the sidewalk, phone to his ear. “Hank won’t stay. Something will come up. He does that every time we get together. But I’m glad you’re here. How ya been?” he asked, tapping my hand.

  “I’ve been better. You’ve heard about Rick Wells' death?”

  “Sure. I didn’t know you broke up with the guy. You and Hank going together again?”

  I avoided his eyes, settling my gaze on the plastic menu. “No, he’s helping me.”

  “Uh-huh.” His comment rang with disbelief, and when I hazarded a glance up at him he was studying me thoughtfully. “Tell me about this nonsense. Who do you think did it?”

  Strangely enough, Rick’s death was an easier subject than Hank’s life. “Someone after his money or jewelry.”

  “Hank told me all the cash was locked up and there was a box of expensive jewelry near the body but nothing was missing. They didn’t even take his expensive watch.”

  His comment jolted me as a shiver of unease flickered down my spine. Nothing was missing? Had they checked the boxes against my list?

  The waitress appeared with tea and water and asked if we were ready to order. I hadn’t picked up the menu yet, so I waved Sam to go ahead.

  “I’ll take the diet plate,” he said and tapped the top of my menu. “It’s not too bad. Comes with cottage cheese and rubbery hamburger that’s edible if you douse it in ketchup. The vegetables ain’t overcooked and the fruit is fresh.”

  “Sounds good,” I agreed, closing the menu. “Should we wait for Hank?”

  “He can order when he comes in.” The waitress walked away and Sam leaned back, rubbing his palms together. “Let’s get back to the killing. I haven’t discussed a good murder case in ages.”

  I started to beg off, but something hit me, like being doused with a bucket of water. Sam might make a perfect sounding board. He’d spent forty years with the LAPD, including thirty as a homicide investigator. Maybe he could calm my concerns about being followed and give me ideas on what to do about Toby’s blackmail scheme.

  Before I could reply, Hank approached the table. He touched his dad’s shoulder. “Sorry, Dad, but I have to go back to work.”

  His father met my eyes across the table. “Told ya.”

  Ignoring the contrary comment, Hank turned to me, speaking like he was issuing orders. “I’ll give you a ride to Mira Loma and an officer will take you home.”

  Sarcasm took possession of my voice. “I wouldn’t want you to perform any special favors. I’ll stay and have dinner with Sam. We’ve already ordered.”

  Hank shifted, impatience radiating from his stiff body. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Who the hell cares?” Sam said. “I don’t feel like eating alone. I feel like keeping company with a pretty girl, so go do your damn business.”

  “I thought you needed a ride,” Hank insisted, leaning toward me, long fingers dancing on the table top as he peered down at me.

  I could hear the warning in his icy tone, but like Sam, I didn’t want to be alone.

  “I can get a cab,” I said, punctuating my words with my sweet anchor smile.

  Hank started to protest, but his phone beeped and he muttered a curse as he grabbed at it. His grimace as he read the number said it all. He had no time to argue.

  “I don’t like this,” he intoned before turning and marching toward the front door.

  “Hank’s too damn protective,” Sam said with a laugh. “He knows I can take care of myself, but he volunteered to play cab driver to make sure I took those damn tests. I think he’s worried about you too.” A long bony finger pointed at me.

  That might be nice, but I knew differently. “He spent the past week letting me know I can’t expect special treatment.”

  He took a gulp of iced tea and his face wrinkled into a scowl. He reached over and picked up a packet of sugar, sighed and put it back before selecting a packet of artificial sweetener. He mixed the sweetener into his tea before taking another sip and nodding in approval. “Hank’s an uptight guy, everything by the fucking rules.”

  “I bet you were that way too when you were a cop. It’s probably where he learned it.”

  A wide grin splashed across Sam’s face. “Hell no. Every so often you gotta bend rules. Don’t get me wrong, some things are right and some are wrong, no matter what, but if you can take a few short cuts or grease a few skids, what’s wrong with that?”

  I’d never heard such a thing from Hank, but I nodded in agreement. I recalled why I enjoyed Sam so much. He was no-nonsense, calling things as he saw them.

  The waitress placed two oval platters in front of us. The hamburger looked overdone, though its grilled aroma was enticing. The steamed broccoli and carrots were bright and firm, and the strawberries, melon chunks, and blueberries in a small bowl looked fresh.

  Sam grabbed the bottle of ketchup and dumped it on the naked burger while I began to cut my vegetables.

  “Sam, I have a question for you.”

  “Shoot,” he urged, cutting into his crimson burger.

  “Police consider me a suspect.”

  “Of course,” he said around a mouthful of burger. “Ex-girlfriend. Last known visitor. Only makes sense.”

  “I didn’t do it,” I said quickly.

  Sam stared at me as though I’d confessed. Then his smile returned and he winked. “Of course you didn’t. I know that.”

  Except for my mother, he was the first person to sound so positive of my innocence. “What makes you so certain?”

  “The person clubbed him to death. That’s not your style. I’ll bet there was blood all over the damn place.” He pointed at the small red pools of ketchup on his plate and then flicked his finger to my plate. My broccoli and carrots were sliced into tiny even bits. “You’re a neat girl, Kimmie. I can’t see you getting blood on your fancy clothes.”

  I
threw my hands up in the air. “Hallelujah! Why can’t anyone else see that?”

  He stopped chewing. “Does Hank?”

  Meeting his direct gaze, I shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know. He won’t discuss the case.” I held up both hands, crooking my fingers in quote signs. “Department regulations.”

  “I’ll bet he thinks the same way. You aren’t the bludgeoning type. A gun, a nice safe distance, maybe.”

  “Or a hit man,” I volunteered with a shaky laugh. “If I wanted anyone dead, I’d pay someone else to do it.”

  He pointed his finger at me again. “Exactly.”

  Oh, hell, big mistake. “But I didn’t do that either.”

  He waved his hand. “I know. You’re not the evil type, even if his sister thinks so.”

  She’d said that at the memorial, but how did he know? “Has she said that publicly?”

  “Almost. Channel 2 interviewed her last night. She said she didn’t understand why police hadn’t arrested you.” A shrewd smile crossed his face. “She called you the Dragon Lady.”

  “Dragon Lady?” From Queen to Dragon Lady? I didn’t like the demotion. Dragons lived in caves, not castles.

  “Yeah, but I say if you were a real Dragon Lady, you’d be manipulating all the stupid TV people. You’re dodging the press. Besides, what kind of motive would you have?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  For long moments I didn’t answer. I had so many motives I couldn’t risk admitting them. I offered the one everyone knew. “He broke up with me to marry that girl...”

  “No go. That’s a heat of passion thing. If you were going to kill him for that, you would have used the bat when he told you.”

  “I wanted to push him off the balcony when he told me. And…” If I was going to be honest with anyone, Sam was the best guy to tell. I wiped a slow tongue across my lips, hesitating before letting the truth slip out. “He may have stolen money from me.”

  He stopped chewing and put down his fork. Confusion laced with concern wrinkled his brow. “Tell me about it.”