Too Big to Die

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

  That girl had to be an undercover something—or maybe she was a serial killer.

  I took the gloves and slipped them on. They were for smaller hands than mine and barely fit, like a pair of too-small condoms. I reached for the note and smoothed it out. It was handwritten, using printed words, not cursive: Back the fuck off or die.

  “How did Burt get this?” I asked.

  “It was stuck on his windshield on Sunday morning,” Donna told us. “We met later that day and discussed what to do about it.”

  “But none of those plans included the police?” I asked. “Not even after Burt died and they came here asking questions?”

  Donna shook her head and started to cry. “I didn’t want to be part of it—you know, the blackmailing. If I gave that to the police, they’d assume I was part of it.”

  “But you were, Donna,” I told her firmly, barely hiding the disgust in my voice. “My husband and I didn’t cause Burt’s death. You did, and so did Burt himself when you went after Marla Kingston. Do you realize how easy it is for people like Marla and her husband to destroy other people? Look what happened to Jordon West, and he was just an innocent seventeen-year-old in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Kingstons think they are above the law. Kingston probably has people on retainer to take care of gnats like you and Burt.” I tapped the note. “This was not a death threat. This was a death sentence. They didn’t even wait to see if Burt would heed the warning. They went after him the very next day, as they probably planned to do all along. The only person this is a warning to is you.”

  Donna blew her nose again. Her tears were real but not sloppy and emotional. This was a woman out to save her own skin. “So what should I do?” she asked. “Go to the police and hope I don’t wind up in jail for blackmail?”

  I stood up and peeled off the gloves. My hands and fingers were happy to be released from the casings. “Would you rather end up dead?”

  twenty-six

  “What’s with the gloves?” I asked Holly once we were back in her car.

  She flashed me a smile. “I sometimes Dumpster dive.”

  “What? Why would you do that? I thought you were comfortable financially.”

  “I am,” she answered. “Another of my interests is art made from junk. If I see something interesting, I pull it from wherever I find it and use it in my pieces. Often the stuff I drag home is quite dirty, so the gloves come in handy.”

  “You’re a woman of many interests,” I noted.

  “That’s what life is about, isn’t it? If something catches my interest, I learn about it. Sometimes it turns into something I enjoy doing, like the art, and sometimes not.” She glanced at me. “Besides, the gloves are also great for not leaving fingerprints when I pull a heist.”

  “That last part was a joke, wasn’t it?” I asked, staring right at her.

  “Maybe.”

  Oh, dear Gawd, this girl was Greg, me, and my mother all rolled into one. How could she not be a blood relative?

  “We still don’t know who killed Burt,” Holly pointed out once we were back on the 405 Freeway and heading toward Huntington Beach. “We kind of know why he might have been killed, but it also could have been Donna’s husband who bumped him off.”

  “Yeah, I wondered that too,” I said. I glanced at the time displayed on my cell phone. If traffic remained good, we’d be on time for the meeting with Seth Washington.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” she said, her eyes fixed on the road. “In order to make that threat or hire someone to do it, Kingston would have had to know about Marla’s indiscretions. Do you really think she went home to Kingston on Saturday and said, ‘Oh, by the way, dear, I was slumming at the strip mall because I was paying off a blackmailer who I told about all your criminal activities during pillow talk.’” I laughed. Holly had changed her voice to that of a bored socialite for the last part.

  “No, I don’t,” I said. “Especially if Marla has an iron-clad prenup that leaves her with nothing in the event of infidelity. Donna’s husband may go to the head of the suspects list.”

  “Or,” Holly said, “Burt’s murder may have had nothing to do with the Kingstons. If he was looking for ways to come up with quick cash and lots of it, he might have crossed the wrong people.”

  It was another great possibility.

  My cell phone rang. I looked at it. It wasn’t a number I knew. I answered with a cautious hello.

  “Is this Odelia Grey?” a woman’s voice asked in a whisper.

  “Yes.” The voice was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

  “This is Celeste Jackson at Bayview Assisted Living.” Before I could greet her properly, she rushed on with her purpose, still whispering. “No one can know I called you, Odelia, but something fishy is going on and I wanted to give you a heads-up. The law firm for Jordon West’s trust got or are getting a restraining order against you.”

  “What?” I nearly shouted.

  “Yes,” she said. “I got a call from them earlier. I’m not to let you anywhere near Jordon or even through the front door. They said you mean him great harm. Now, I don’t know you very well, but I clearly saw that you would never hurt that man. What’s going on?”

  “It’s a long story, Celeste,” I told her as my blood began to boil, “and if I have my way, it’s all going to come out very soon. In the meantime, protect yourself and your job and don’t contact me again, but I sure appreciate this call.”

  When the call ended, I said to Holly, “Well, I’ll be. My law firm just put a restraining order against me so I can’t see Jordon West again. I’ll bet that mother of his called Kingston and Kingston called Templin.”

  “Maybe that’s why they’re firing you,” Holly suggested.

  “They’re firing me because I’m on to something and they’re trying to block me from learning anything new.” I was fuming. “The thing is, I already know everything I need to know about Kingston’s dirty hands; the trouble is going to be providing proof. Jordon’s mother certainly isn’t going to speak to me again—not unless it’s to push me down another flight of steps.”

  When we reached Ocean Breeze Graphics, Seth was already in Greg’s office sipping coffee. I introduced him to Holly and told Seth and Greg about what we’d learned from Donna, and about Celeste Jackson’s call. Greg had told him everything else before we got there. When I was done, Seth asked Holly to excuse us. He needed to speak with me in private since it involved a client of T&T. She understood and went to sit out front and talk with Chris and Aziz. Greg didn’t want to leave me, but Seth insisted. It reminded me of the times Seth had counseled me at police stations.

  Seth offered to go to the meeting with Steele in my place. “You don’t have to go, Odelia,” he said. “I can go with you or as your representative.”

  “No,” I said with a shake of my head. “I want to look Steele in the eye when he lowers the axe.”

  “Don’t be too hard on Mike Steele,” Seth advised. “Both you and Greg need to understand that he’s only doing what he’s been ordered to do. Same with the firm. They were only carrying out the directives of their client when they set up that trust. You don’t know if they knew the whole story or only what Kingston told them. Same with Holly’s mother. If T&T set up a settlement between her and Kingston, they were doing their job. But you did go snooping around in the firm’s file system after you were put on leave. You know better than that, Odelia. You know that was wrong.”

  I nodded. “Yes, I do. But on the moral sliding scale, it’s a molecule of dust compared to covering up an accident that put a kid in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”

  Seth nodded. “I totally agree with you on that, but you did break the rules.” Seth is a handsome man, big and powerfully built, with a deep mahogany voice that matched his skin color. He’s like a brother to me, and I trust him with my life.

  “So, when
we get to T&T,” he said, “you’ll let me do the talking, right? They are probably going to offer you an exit package. We will negotiate for more. After all, you didn’t learn about Kingston’s involvement with Jordon West from your snooping in the firm’s system. You were only confirming what you’d learned elsewhere.”

  “Okay,” I reluctantly agreed. “Just don’t mention anything about Bayview. Celeste could lose her job. One lost job is enough.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t mention that. Just remember, Odelia, your job is gone; we’re just going to make it hurt on their side a little more. Steele’s not your enemy, but for today he’s not your friend. You can kiss and make up after the smoke clears.”

  “Guess I’ll go home and change,” I told him, “unless you think my capris and shirt give off a certain air of disrespect, which I definitely feel right now.”

  Seth laughed and shook his head. “Actually, I think the sling is a nice touch.” He paused. “Funny, I was thinking on the way down here that this isn’t the first time you’ve negotiated an exit package from a firm after your snooping uncovered something nasty. Didn’t Steele negotiate that last one for you?”

  “That he did,” I confirmed. “And I’m sure he’s remembering that today too.”

  “Maybe, Odelia, you should think about staying away from law firms and think about finding something where you can work for yourself.”

  “That’s what Greg’s campaigning for,” I told him, “and he’s campaigning hard.”

  “By the way,” Seth said, “Greg and I talked about you guys going to the police with the stuff you know. I think it’s time.”

  “Me too,” I agreed, “especially the stuff about Burt’s murder.”

  “And the stuff about Kingston might be okay, too, at least the stuff you learned on your own and not through the firm. I’ll double-check on that and let you know when I see you later. And I’ll go with you and Greg to the police if you like.” He gave me a hug. “With you and Greg on the loose, maybe I should become a criminal attorney.”

  “We’re not criminals,” I reminded him.

  “You spend as much time in police stations as they do.”

  There was a knock on Greg’s office door. It was Greg. “Sorry to interrupt, but I think you need to see this, Odelia.” In his hands was an iPad. On his heels was Holly.

  “No worries, Greg,” Seth said. “We’re done, and I need to leave. I have to run by my office before the T&T meeting.” He turned to me. “Do you think, Odelia, that you can stay out of trouble until at least three?”

  As soon as Seth left, Greg thrust the iPad at me. “This is Holly’s. This is the uncut footage from the day Burt was shot.” He started the video, which was shot from across the street from the strip mall where we were currently located. Vehicles of all kinds, including busses and delivery trucks, drove past in both directions, with the occasional gap in traffic where the camera caught a full view of the front of Ocean Breeze, the parking lot, and the small businesses around it. Once in a while people walked past on the sidewalk or a bike or two went by or someone on skates or a skateboard. Then my car was viewed pulling into the parking lot. A while later, Burt’s truck pulled into the lot and Burt got out. There was a shot, and Burt was hit.

  “We’ve seen this before,” I said.

  “Not this clip,” Holly pointed out. “This is the entire video, not the edited one I posted.”

  “Look again,” Greg said. “But don’t watch the building, watch the people on the street.”

  I watched it again. Then again, trying to concentrate on the pedestrians. Nothing jumped out at me until the third viewing. I stopped the video. “Can we enlarge this?” I asked. “Just this section here.”

  Greg turned to Holly. “She finally saw it.”

  Holly stepped up and enlarged the video. I studied it. “What’s he doing down here?” I finally asked no one in particular.

  “Interesting, isn’t it?” asked Greg. “And now that you know what you’re looking for, go back to the beginning to view it again.”

  I did as he said. One person made a couple of passes in front of the camera. He was on the same side as the shop, not the side where Holly stood. It was Charlie Cowart on a skateboard.

  “Charlie told me he lived up near the grocery store in Long Beach. He couldn’t have skateboarded all the way down to Huntington Beach, could he?”

  “It’s about ten to twelve miles,” Greg estimated. “It’s not impossible. More likely he drove down, then hopped on the skateboard when he got here. The real question is why he’s going back and forth in front of the shop. Did he know Burt was coming and was waiting for him? Or was he watching me? He started doing this before you even showed up.”

  I didn’t like the thought of that at all. I moved the video forward to see the last time Charlie showed up on the screen, then moved it forward slowly to see how soon it was before Burt showed up after that. “Look at this,” I said. “Charlie’s last pass was right before Burt showed up. It’s almost as if he was waiting for him.” I played more of the video to see if Charlie, who seemed to be a natural voyeur, stuck around to video the hullabaloo with the police and ambulance. “And as soon as Burt was shot, he disappeared,” I noted. “Saturday he stuck around to film the dog rescue, but on Monday he took off as soon as Burt was shot.”

  “But how did Charlie know Burt would be here and when?” Greg asked. “If he’s the shooter, someone would have had to tell him.”

  “Donna told us that she and Burt discussed it on Sunday after Burt got that death threat,” Holly said. “I got the feeling only she knew Burt was coming here.”

  “Me too,” I said. “And even if Charlie had followed him here in a car, he wouldn’t have had time to roll back and forth before Burt pulled into the parking lot.” I shook my head. “No, someone set up Burt, and that someone knew Burt was heading here.”

  “Unless,” Holly said, pacing the office, “there was a bug planted somewhere.” She stopped. “Think about it: it would be easy for someone to plant a bug in Burt’s place when he was out. Maybe Kingston was having his wife followed and that led to Burt. Donna did say they went back to Burt’s to discuss stuff.”

  Greg and I looked at each other, agreeing that Holly could be right. “Did anyone notice you filming?” Greg asked. “I’d hate to think Charlie saw you taking this.”

  “It’s not like I stick out like a sore thumb,” she said with sarcasm. “I blend in with the background. Everyone is looking at their phone or tablet these days. No one even considers that they might be on camera, even though there are cameras everywhere.”

  “Cameras everywhere,” I repeated. “I’ll bet the police got footage from the security cameras from each of the businesses around here to see if the shooter was caught on one of them.”

  “I know they asked for my camera feed,” Greg said. “Do you think they noticed Charlie going back and forth like a duck in a carnival shooting gallery?”

  “That was the Huntington Beach police,” I noted. “They might not realize Charlie was the same one who took the footage of the dog rescue. They might not have linked him to both places yet.” I tapped the screen. “Holly, is this what you gave the police or was it the shortened version you posted on the web?”

  “I gave them this full video,” she said, “just in case there was something on it I didn’t see.”

  Greg brought up what was on my mind. “We need to contact Detectives Chapman and Suarez about this. Charlie might not be the killer, but they need to know he’s a common thread. I have their cards here.”

  Greg rolled to his desk and retrieved two business cards that had been clipped under his desk phone for safekeeping. He picked up the phone and dialed the number for one of them. While he did that, I went to Greg’s computer and called up Marigold. Once there, I input the name Charles Cowart with birthdate parameters that would put him anywhere from sev
enteen to twenty-nine in age.

  “I got voice mail on both their numbers,” Greg reported. “I told them to call us because we may have something new on the murder.”

  “I think you should talk to them,” I said to Holly. “You’re the video queen and can also tell them about Burt since you were with me at the construction company. I need to get to that meeting at T&T.”

  “But I drove you here,” Holly noted.

  “No problem,” Greg said. “I can take Odelia there. I want to go anyway.”

  “Okay,” she agreed. “Although I’d rather be anywhere but at a police station.”

  “Why?” Greg teased. “You have a secret past you don’t want catching up to you?”

  “Don’t ask, Greg,” I said, “unless you really want to know.”

  Holly laughed. “You guys are so weird and funny.”

  Detective Suarez called Greg back first. Greg quickly explained to the detective what we had stumbled upon. Detective Suarez asked if Holly could come down to the station immediately. They’d be waiting for her.

  After Holly left, I used the bathroom. The Marigold report hadn’t come in yet when I returned. “I guess we’d better get going,” I said to Greg.

  “You want to go home and change first?” he asked. “I was thinking I should drop off Wainwright before heading into your office. We have just enough time if we hurry.”

  I looked down at my casual clothes and well-worn sneakers and shook my head. “Nah,” I said. “Home is in the other direction, and it’s not like I’m going to a job interview. Let’s bring Wainwright. He can stay with Jill during the meeting.”

  We were crossing through the main part of the shop toward the front door when we noticed everyone gathered around, staring up at the TV, including two customers. We stopped too and looked up, like a crowd watching an air show.

  I grabbed Greg’s shoulder as the breaking news sunk into my skull. On the screen an anchor was reporting on the death of Marla Kingston, wife of tycoon Kelton Kingston. According to the report, Marla had died of a drug overdose. We stood rooted to our spots. Onscreen now was a makeshift press conference in front of the Kingston mansion in Newport Coast. In front of the microphones was a spokesperson for the Kingston family. I recognized him as one of the junior partners from the LA office of T&T but couldn’t remember his name. He said it had happened less than two hours earlier. A maid had found Mrs. Kingston in the bathtub, but she was already dead. The spokesperson went on to say that Mrs. Kingston had been battling severe depression for quite some time, and the recent public criticism over leaving her dog in a hot car had been too much for her to bear. He asked the public to respect the family’s privacy.