I thunked my head on the table. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about your parents.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. I just don’t think it was her. What do you know about my parents?”
“I grew up in the house behind them. My parents still live there. Your brother and mine were friends and teammates, and sometimes your mom would come into Baskin Robbins with a black eye and I would sell her a gallon of Rocky Road.”
He nodded, his mind already back to Chambers. “Who else would want him dead?”
“Well, even if they were small time, I guess it could have been a bad drug deal.”
“Yeah, or Chambers could have been skimming from whoever he was working for.”
“True.”
Mikey nodded, and I yawned again. The six pack was gone, and he went to get another one.
“Tell me your story, Alex,” he said, popping open two more cans and pushing one towards me. “I’m surprised I don’t remember you, growing up right under my nose and all.”
“Hunh. Well, I grew up here, went away to college, got a job and got married. You know, the usual. Then my husband left me a few months ago for someone named Raoul, and I couldn’t afford to keep living in southern California, so I moved back here. I bought a fixer upper and hired a contractor to work on it for me, and now everyone thinks I’m screwing him. The only member of my family who actually likes me might go to jail. And technically I’m a graphic designer, but lately I seem to be making a career out of misjudging people.”
“Just so we’re clear, you’re not screwing the contractor?”
“Hunh-uh. Well, you know, just the one time.” Crap, why did I say that? Damn beer.
Mikey’s dark eyes were twinkling, and a smile was starting in the corners of his mouth. “So you’re not seeing anybody?”
Uh-oh. This couldn’t be good. “I can’t, Mikey, it’s complicated.”
His face clouded over and he nodded, his smile tight now, the twinkle gone. “I see.”
“No, you don’t see. Now you’re the one jumping to conclusions. It has nothing to do with you, or the fact that you’re an ex-con. There is somebody. Your brother, actually. We’re not together, but it’s complicated and I need to sort it out.” I banged the can down on the table for emphasis.
“Okay, okay, I believe you. Don’t beat up my furniture. It may be crap, but it’s all I have.” His face was relaxed again, and I could see he did believe me.
We drank our beers in silence, and I wondered about something else.
“What’s it like? Prison, I mean?”
“It’s not a nice place, Alex. You don’t want your brother to go there, and I don’t want mine to, either. And I sure as hell don’t want to go back.” He was thoughtful for a minute. “You know, this will be a two-strikes crime, the murder and the arson, two felonies. If I’m convicted, it’ll be my third strike, and I’ll go away forever.” He grimaced. “Unless they go for special circumstances.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up that way.” I’d opened another beer, way past my limit. “Hey, I noticed your letterhead when I was in your office - ”
“When you broke into my office.”
“Whatever. Anyway, your logo is really outdated. If you want, I could design you something new and more sophisticated, and do new letterhead and envelopes and stuff.”
He threw his head back and laughed, soft and deep. “I’m talking about the death penalty here, and you want to redo my office papers? Tell you what. If we all get out of this without a prison sentence, you can have the job.”
I woke up when somebody started jack-hammering inside my head. I squinted and looked around, confused. Little bits and pieces started coming back to me. Mikey, a gun, and beer. Lots of beer. Shit. I was on the couch. I peeked under the blanket. Whew, fully dressed. That was always a good sign. I kicked the blanket off and sat up, slowly, pressing my palms hard against the sides of my head so it wouldn’t explode.
“Not a big drinker, huh?” Mikey was leaning against the doorjamb, wearing nothing but jeans, brushing his teeth.
“Shit.”
“Uh-hunh.” He disappeared and I heard the water running. He came back and handed me a glass and three aspirin. He was about six feet tall, the same as Danny, but built a little more solid, more bulk, less definition. His black hair was straight instead of curly, his eyes were nearly black and his coloring was more mocha-y than bronze. I noticed a scar running horizontally along the right side of his abdomen, just above the waistband of his jeans.
“Appendicitis,” he said. This ESP thing was damned annoying.
“I have to go.” Something was nagging at my brain, but the jackhammers were making it hard for me to figure it out. I gave my head a smack, which was a decidedly stupid idea, and I groaned in pain as the jackhammers retaliated. Suddenly, it came to me. “Fuck, I’m such an idiot.” My voice sounded far away.
“Not following.”
“That expensive car. I have the license plate number.”
“You what?”
“Yeah, this girl I know borrowed my digital camera, and she saw the car over at Sherry’s and took a picture for me. I totally forgot last night, what with the breaking in and the gun and the decomposition and all the damn beer.”
“Decomposition?”
“I thought you might kill me and leave my body outside in the heat. I figured it’s hot enough, I’d be all decomposed in a couple hours and no one would ever find me because you live in a weird maze.”
“Did you think this before or after the beer?”
“Before.”
His lips twitched, and it didn’t take psychic powers to know he was laughing at me. I would have been pissed if I could have formed a coherent thought.
“You need to tell this girl to be careful. If expensive car guy is the guy who shot Chambers, she shouldn’t mess with him. Do you have anybody who’ll run the plate for you?”
I thought about Jimmy C. It was a long shot, but a possibility. “I don’t know. Probably not on a Sunday, but maybe tomorrow. I’ll call you. Oh, I don’t have your phone number.”
He wrote several numbers on a pad, home, work, cell, then tore the top sheet off and handed it to me, and I left.
I found the Element on my third lap around the parking labyrinth, and by then I was sweating and panting in my breaking and entering outfit. The car went on autopilot to Starbucks, and I took my decaf latte and raspberry scone home to eat in peace, forgetting that I lived at Grand Central Station. Jack was in the living room, uncoiling a long roll of electrical wire. He gave me a look when I walked in.
“You just getting home?”
I grunted and gulped my coffee and threw my purse in the direction of the coffee table.
“Danny’s a lucky guy.”
“Wasn’t with Danny.” I ignored the raised eyebrow and went to the kitchen to eat in peace. Kevin and Pauline were sitting at the counter.
“Shit.”
“You just getting home?”
“How long have you been here?”
“About twenty minutes. I was just going to wake you up.” Pauline was practically jumping off the barstool, dying to ask where I’d been, not wanting to in front of my brother.
“Yes, I’m just getting home. I left the barbecue yesterday, came home and changed into this ridiculous outfit, broke into Junior Salazar’s office, and then spent the night with him. I’m doing my best to ruin Brian’s chances of being elected. I’m going to take a shower now. Please go away.” They were gaping at me, not sure how much, if any, of the story to believe.
I stood in the shower until the hot water started to run low. The jackhammers were gone, replaced by a dull thud. It was manageable but still annoying. I combed my hair out straight and pulled on denim shorts and a Cal State Long Beach t-shirt, then went in search of my intruders. Pauline was watching TV in the living room. I didn’t see Kevin or Jack. I flopped on the couch and threw my legs up on the coffee table next to Pauline’s coffee
cup.
“So was that true, about last night? You and Junior?”
“You think I’d sleep with Danny’s brother? Really?” Evidently Brian was right about my reputation.
She considered it. “I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way. I’m still not used to the idea of you and Danny, you know, doing it.”
Welcome to the club. “Paul, I don’t mean to be rude, but what the hell are you and Kevin doing at my house at the crack of dawn on a freaking Sunday?”
“Just so you know, ten-thirty is not the crack of dawn. And his roommate was home.”
“And your apartment is, what, being fumigated? Infested with rats? Condemned?”
She shrugged. “You have a pool.”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
She shrugged again. “Yours is private.”
Right.
CHAPTER NINE
“Why do you have pictures of Brian’s car?” Kevin sauntered out from the office, photos in hand.
I sat up so fast I knocked Pauline’s coffee off the table, the mug sailing halfway across the room. “What?”
“These pictures. Why would you want to take pictures of Brian’s car?”
“How do you know it’s Brian’s car?” My brain was still sludgey with hops, I couldn’t figure this out.
“Duh, because these are his plates.”
“Muscle Man? Are you kidding me?” Talk about false advertising. Brian’s five-eight, weighs about a hundred and fifty pounds and has never picked up a dumbbell in his life. Muscles were Neanderthalish and beneath him, I was sure.
Kevin smacked me on the head with the pictures. “Music Man, stupid.”
“Say what?” No one in my family can carry a tune in a bucket, including the otherwise faultless Brian.
“His wife? Melody? Jesus, Alex, how much did you drink last night?”
“Her name is Melody. Right. Musical Man. Okay, I’m with you.” More clever thinking on Brian’s part. Music Lemon would’ve been cleverer, though.
“So what’s with the photos?”
“I just needed a license plate for a design I’m working on. I didn’t need his license plate, but his was the cleanest one on the street when I went to take a photo. I scanned it and I’m going to play around with it,” I lied. My brain was sending signals to my mouth, but I was still reeling.
I took the photos from Kevin, went to the office and put them in my desk drawer. I stared out the window for a minute, dejected. I realized it had been unreasonable to hope that any car parked at Sherry’s had something to do with the murder. My car had been parked there, for pete’s sake, and I was pretty certain I hadn’t killed Chambers. My memory wasn’t that bad. I’d just latched onto expensive car guy because I was desperate to help Kevin and Danny.
I guessed Brian had been at Sherry’s for the same reason I had, to get information that would clear Kevin. Or maybe he’d been out pressing the flesh for the upcoming election. That seemed more likely, somehow.
Jack’s truck was in the driveway next to my car, and Kevin’s Deuce was parked in front of my house behind the gray Escort, and the Shirtless Wonder was in his driveway, half-clad and poking around at one of the Camaro bodies, making sure it was really dead, I guessed. I closed the office door and dialed Mikey’s home number.
“Salazar,” he growled.
“Jeez, you were friendlier last night when you were threatening me with the forty-five.”
“I just had my daily visit from Minter’s finest.”
“Anything new?”
“They’re still fishing. But they’re getting tired of waiting. I think they’ll arrest Danny and Kevin in the next few days, with the hope that that will get me to confess.”
“But you didn’t do it.” I had decided I believed him about that.
“I’m aware of that.”
I had a thought. “You think they’re tapping your phones?”
“I think you watch too much TV. This is a small town with no money. There’s no budget for things like wiretaps, and besides, they may have circumstantial evidence against Danny, but they’ve got nothing on me except speculation and small-mindedness. Usually takes more than that to get a warrant for any kind of surveillance.”
“Hunh.” He seemed to know a lot about legal stuff. I guessed he’d had a lot of time to read over the past fifteen years, and he hadn’t spent it on comic books.
“Alex?” I could hear the hint of a smile.
“Yeah?”
“Was there a reason for this call, or did you just miss the sound of my voice?”
Now that I thought about it, he did have a pleasant voice. Not an orgasm-on-the-front-porch kind of voice, but fortunately, those are pretty rare. I imagined housewives running to the door to greet the UPS man, casseroles burning, children left unattended, playing with matches, running with scissors...
“Alex? You there?”
“Oh, right. Hey, I think I know who that car belongs to.”
“Jesus, who?”
“My brother.”
“Kevin?”
“The other one, Brian. I’ll find out for sure tomorrow and let you know.”
“He have any particular business that would take him to Sherry’s place?” A polite way of asking if he was a junkie or murderer, I guess. Obviously, he’d never met Brian.
“Nah,” I said, still bummed that expensive car guy turned out to be a dead end. “He’s running for office. I guess he was either campaigning or looking for information to help Kevin.”
“Damn. Well, give me a call when you know for sure.” Mikey was obviously bummed about the dead end, too.
I hung up and stared out the window some more, hoping for inspiration.
I wasn’t inspired yet when I was interrupted by a knock at the door. Pauline poked her head inside.
“There’s steam coming out of your ears.”
“I was trying to figure something out.”
“Well, it’s clearly not working. Take a break. It’s the weekend. Come relax by the pool like the old days.”
I was thinking that in the old days, we didn’t relax by the pool with my brother. I thought maybe I was jealous, but I couldn’t figure out if I was jealous about sharing Pauline with my brother, or about sharing my brother with Pauline, or about sharing my house with the whole lot of them, or if I was just mad because they had each other and I didn’t have anybody. Probably a little of each, I decided. My phone rang, but the caller was blocked so I didn’t bother to answer it. I sighed and shuffled to my room to change into a swimsuit, then headed out to the pool. Pauline had persuaded Jack to take a break from the wiring, and he was swimming laps. Lucifer was sitting next to the pool, licking his paw and watching Jack like some sort of feline lifeguard.
I considered calling Danny but decided against it. Things seemed to have improved somewhat between us, but probably he didn’t want to come over and hang out with Murphy. I took a lounge chair and arranged it so the sun would ruin my skin evenly and then arranged myself to look as thin as possible in my swimsuit. I sucked in my breath so I wouldn’t have a roll around my stomach. I sighed and blew out the air. That would never work. Sooner or later, I was going to have to breathe. Lucifer gave up on Jack and leapt on the foot of my chaise. I gave him a pat with my foot, and he purred and closed his eyes.
Jack surfaced and climbed out of the pool, ignoring the steps and the stack of towels Pauline had brought out. He flopped on a lounge, then shook his head like a wet golden retriever, droplets flying. Lucifer opened one eye and glared in Jack’s direction.
“You have a pool guy?” he asked.
Not in the way that Max has a pool guy, I thought. “Yeah, the old owner gave me the name of the service she had used.”
“My brother-in-law has a pool service. He’ll give you a really good deal.”
“Will he also want to live here?”
He flicked water at me and smiled. “You’d be lonely without us.”
I heard the back door open and waited to see who
would appear. Maybe Debbie with more cookies. Jack and Kevin had finished off the batch from Friday, and I could use a cookie. Nothing like feeling depressed about how I looked in a swimsuit to stimulate my appetite.
“Hey, Alex.” It was Angela. “I rang the bell and no one answered, but since I saw all the rides out front, I figured you’d be back here. Hope it’s okay.”
I introduced her to my entourage, and she made some assumptions of her own.
“Let me guess. You’re the big-ass truck,” she said to Jack, who grinned as proudly as if he’d given birth to the stupid thing. “And you’re the Hog,” she continued, nodding to my brother.
“You’re batting a thousand,” he told her.
“And I know Alex drives the funky orange thing,” she turned to Pauline, “but you don’t look like a boring gray Escort to me. More like a Bug, or one of those funny little Mini Cooper things.”
“Wow, not bad. She’s attached to the Harley these days, but she does drive a Beetle. It looks like a ladybug. I don’t know who that ugly Escort belongs to. It’s out there for a while every day, but I haven’t seen the driver yet. Probably a friend of the meth lab’s.”
I got up and wrapped a towel around my waist and escorted Angela into the office.
“Thanks a lot for taking these,” I said, taking the license plate photos out of the desk drawer and inspecting them again. “What time was it there?”
She shrugged. “In the morning agains.”
She flipped on the computer, and I pulled a file off the credenza and laid it in front of her on the desk. “So, about that humongous truck - ?”
“Christ, you’re not old enough to ask that question!” Honestly, kids these days. “Anyway, we’re just friends. He’s the contractor I told you about.” I flicked the folder open to show her what I’d done with the raisins, and she read over the notes I had taken on the requirements for the brochure. I opened the Illustrator file that I’d called Leisure Land Brochure, in my clever naming system, and saved a copy of it as Angelas Raisins.
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