Peppermint Soul (Liza McNairy Mysteries Book 1)

by Dan Glover

  "We should stop by the Picany house again while we're out here, Danners. Maybe this afternoon. I want to catch them unawares."

  "I love the way you think, girlfriend."

  And I love you, Danners Forthright. You know that. Yet you never pressure me into doing anything that might come back and haunt our relationship. Is that because you understand the consequences? You've seen the future the way you do and you know? Or do I simply repel you. Tell me, my love.

  Get a grip, Lizzi. The man doesn’t go for women. You know that. But Lissi... he might change. People do change. Oh, my precious baby sister... when are you going to grow up? The world is a far darker place than either of us realize. I'm shut of it. But you... you have to keep on keeping on.

  She hated being beholden to Danners... needing him to drive her everywhere. She supposed she might be the only person in all of Los Angeles to have gotten a driver's license but not a car. Even the thought of climbing behind the wheel made her palms sweat. He never made a thing out of it—Danners was too sweet for that—but she knew it aggravated him how he had to pick her up. Especially the waiting... why did she enjoy taunting him like that?

  "I want to ask the parents about the girls' boyfriends. As pretty as they were they must have had plenty."

  "Well, we have a photo of one of them... is he a secret?"

  "For now... let's find out what they know first. Let's not say anything about those pictures I found. We'll give them back when the case is complete. And we can bring the Baker kid up to them later if need be. Let's see if the Picany's volunteer anything first. Say... did you get anything off that picture yet, Danners?"

  He'd sleep with the old photograph tucked under his pillow last night and that ratty teddy bear parked between them. She hoped it didn’t smell like it looked and for once in her life she was in luck. The bear had an odor of violets and chocolate and she fell asleep thinking of Lissa and how much she loved flowers and sweet things and when she dreamed it wasn’t of dragons but of a giant green meadow and a hill of flowers in the distance and it seemed as if she'd had the dream before so she knew exactly who and what was over

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  The hill waiting for her.

  Lissi was there. Or so she hoped. Sometimes she was. But sometimes she wasn’t. That was their secret place, one no one else knew about. Liza thought she remembered dreaming that same dream while still idling in mother's womb alongside her twin—wrapped so closely that their hair grew into each others' scalps—but perhaps that too was simply being silly. Lissi was the older, more take charge. And yet the girl could be submissive too. They were mirrors to one another only now Lissi's reflection lay shattered.

  It'd been one of those dreams when she knew she was dreaming yet like waking life she had little control over the outcome. As she walked toward the gently sloping hill the ground beneath her feet began to quiver, as if she was stepping on Jell-O. She looked down expecting—what? And when she brought her eyes back to the hill it'd grown into a vast mountain so tall she couldn’t see the top for the clouds encircling it.

  She heard a voice carrying on the wind, the snatch of a song that Lissi loved. The sound seemed to come swirling down the side of the mountain like an avalanche of love threatening to bury her beneath its cold embrace. For just a moment Liza felt fright. Perhaps she was mistaken. Whoever was singing that song might not be Lissi at all. Maybe it was a trick to get her to climb that mountain, a play of the Fates, like they amused themselves with the night Lissi perished.

  Afraid, Liza blinked herself awake. Danners lay curled close beside her sheathed in silver moonlight flooding through the skylight. A cool night breeze blew across her naked body as she watched him sleeping. His limbs twitched and beneath the lids she could discern the movement of his eyeballs. Was he dreaming too? They'd had Mexican for supper. DanMan insisted. He always said how spicy food brought him dreams and who was she to argue?

  Finally after what seemed like hours he must have sensed her gazing upon him. He opened his eyes and smiled that crooked smile of his to see her there beside him and then rolled over to sleep again. Did he think he was still dreaming? She snuggled closer to him pressing her bare breasts into his back feeling a wriggle of want grow low in her belly. For a moment she considered going farther up that mountain but the next moment sunshine filled her eyes. Morning had arrived and with it sanity.

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  "Like who took it? Maybe... I'm pretty sure another boy was with them, Liza, a shutterbug. He likes to display others but not himself so much, though he is a show off. Keeps to the shadows. Hides in plain sight."

  "So you're saying he's still alive?"

  "Oh, definitely, Liza... alive and thriving from the sense I get."

  The Picany house looked sad. Even the yard had a somber cast to it, and the charcoal gray sedan sitting in the driveway seemed downright melancholy. A rusty grill sat unused beside the garage. She hadn’t noticed that before. Danners got impressions from objects that he held but she had more empathic abilities... the feelings lurking behind a façade of normalcy were hers to sense. The heroin helped to dull it but only barely. Unlike last time they were here she'd only bumped a little up one nostril, just an eye opener, enough to get her through the day without tweaking too much.

  The Picany's lived just two blocks from the beach on 2nd Avenue, third house on the left. Nondescript. Just another one of those endless tract homes built post-WWII during the building boom years, the baby making decade. All those fighting men came home, got busy fucking, starting families, and needing houses. One box after another, cookie cutter design, tiny yard, one car garage tucked in back, detached. These days wealthy folk were buying up four or six houses in a square or large rectangle, bulldozing them, and constructing McMansions in their places. Three story monstrosities, high enough a person could sit in the widow's lookout on top and doubtlessly see the ocean, feel the salt breeze, taste it on their lips as they sipped margaritas and puffed their blunts.

  The Picany's had moved to Santa Monica just a year before the girls vanished. Liza did some digging. They'd lived in Malibu Hills prior to that. Occupied a multi-million dollar mansion right on the ocean. Picany's business had gone south about that time. Had to sell everything. Lost the rest. She imagined it must have been quite an adjustment for the entire family. No life insurance policies on the girls. If there had been, Picany might well have become prime suspect instead of simply another in a long line.

  "Oh... hello. Danners, is it? And Ms. McNairy! To what do I owe the pleasure? Do you have some news for us already?"

  "No, Mr. Picany... I'm sorry. We don't. But could you spare a few more minutes? We were able to procure the police files on your daughters' disappearance. There are some questions we'd like to go over with you and Mrs. Picany."

  "You ought to have called first, Ms. McNairy... my wife isn’t feeling herself today. Late night and all that. She's still in bed."

  "Maybe you could help us?"

  "Of course... come in, please."

  The house stank. Though she might have been under the spell of the demon last time she was here, Liza knew she'd have noticed an odor like that. Putrid. A rotten egg smell. Bad water? Or something else? It actually seemed to singe her nose hairs.

  "Could I get you something to drink?"

  "No thank you, Mr. Picany. Tell us... did either of your girls have a boyfriend?"

  "Sure they did, both of them... but I kept a tight rein on that sort of thing, Ms. McNairy. Made sure they were home by ten. Interviewed every one of them who came by to pick them up. Personally, I thought they should've waited another year before they started dating but their mother had other ideas. So I acquiesced."

  His speech had a slight slur to it, as if he'd only begun to debauch himself. An open bottle of Jack Daniels sat on the coffee table with a tumbler beside it half full of ice and amber liquid. Condensation beading on the outside. Hell, though... she just snorted up a primo line of H not two hours ago so who was she to judge the man? Still, it was
hard not to. At least she was a functioning addict. Or so she liked to tell herself. And Lissi, of course.

  "Do you recall any names, Mr. Picany?"

  "Names... well, there was a boy named Johm. Nice kid. Had plans on being a doctor."

  "Was that his last name?"

  "Yes, no... I don’t really know. Guess I never really thought about it. That's how Missy introduced him to me, anyway. Just Johm. Odd name. Maybe that's why I remember him. And he was one of the last. Came by just the one time. I never thought to ask."

  "Maybe Mrs. Picany might remember?"

  "She never met the boyfriends. That was my job. But it could be the girls spoke to her about the boy. I'll make sure to ask her. When she wakes up, of course."

  "I see. Anyone else that you can think of?"

  "Christ, it's been so long ago... tell you what, Ms. McNairy, if a name surfaces I can jot it down and call you. My wife might know better than I do. You know how women are about those things. She was always talking with the twins. When the three of them were together I could never get a word in most times."

  "Thank you, Mr. Picany. Would you mind terribly if we had another look around the girls' room?"

  "Help yourself... you remember where it is?"

  "Yes, thank you."

  "I'll let you and Danners do your thing... I have something on the stove."

  "I can smell it, Mr. Picany. What on earth are you making?"

  "Homemade horseradish, Danners. You like?"

  "Oh my yes... is it hot?"

  "It'll burn the hair right off your tongue, my boy. Next time you're here, I'll fix you up with some."

  Chapter 12—Hank

  (In Heat)

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  He always loved copping feels from Liza like that. Hell, if he wasn’t mistaken her nipples got hard when he pressed the back of his hand against that chest of hers. Did it excite her as much as it did him? Maybe. Though he was sixteen years older they'd gone through the academy together. Even back then he wanted her. But you had to watch your shit in those days. Not like now. Jesus, today these dipshit rookies get away with anything. Damned unions.

  "Thanks, Hank. I knew I could still count on your help. We'll keep you apprised of any developments."

  "Liza, you know I'm here for you. Christ sake, girl... when are you going to come to your senses and get back here? I could use a detective like you. These days all they send me is those affirmative action cocksuckers. No offense, Danners."

  "None taken, Detective."

  "I appreciate the offer, Hank. I really do. But I'm happy doing my own thing. You ought to try it one of these days. Might be surprised how much easier it is."

  Jesus, what a pair of hooters. Older now, she wasn’t quite as sharp as she was back then, but she still looked mighty fine. Good enough to mess around with on the side. He had himself several little honeys like that. Latinas, mostly. The wife stopped giving up that pussy right after the birth of their third kid. Not that it mattered. The little woman wasn’t so little any longer. She had so many creases he didn’t know which one to stick it in. He guessed that's what happened after they spit out two or three kids. At least that's what happened in his particular situation.

  When Liza called to ask about the Picany case it served to remind him how he hadn’t talked with the parents in at least a couple years, maybe longer. Used to be if he didn’t call them, they called him. He supposed they must realize by now those girls weren’t coming home again, at least not in one piece. A shame, really. But hell, he had another five hundred cases just like that one on the back burner. Hell, five thousand. People just gone. Vanished. Like some alien motherfucker swooped down in a flying saucer and abducted their asses to Tralfamadore or some such place. Those goddamned Tralfamadorians... always up to no good.

  He'd joined the service right out of school. Put in his twenty and got out. They called him Gramps at the police academy. Hell, he was only thirty eight. Gramps. He kicked most of their asses on the training course too. Though he had his service pension he wasn’t ready to retire completely. Joining the Sheriff's Department seemed the logical choice. There was the Captain to think about. And business. So there he was going through the academy with twenty somethings. Knowing the Captain gave him a leg up, though. Two years later when he made detective the Captain offered him the cold case unit. Old Billy Perkins finally retired. The man had to be in his nineties and was dead within six months. Brain cancer. Probably from thinking too fucking much. Not him... he wasn’t going out like that. A walking talking corpse who didn’t know enough to lay down and die.

  Of course the Captain had other reasons for giving him the promotion but he knew enough to keep a lid on that shit. A lot of feelings were hurt when Hank Lupo was handed that bone and there was no sense in rubbing salt into their wounds. In time all those crybaby assholes would realize he was the better man—the right selection for the job—and until then his authority outweighed theirs.

  He'd put in his time with the department and once he had his twenty years in, he was gone. The union made sure he got two thirds salary and health benefits for the rest of his life. Hell yeah. He planned on taking it and running. That combined with his service pension would put him right on easy street... that and a few other irons he had in the fire. The Captain might not like it but the hell with him. He'd been kowtowing to that man for way too long as it was.

  Though initially he had his reservations, he took the promotion. The Picany twins were his first official real cold case. Of course he knew it was going nowhere. The Captain too. But that's how things worked. He'd been thirty one when they vanished and he still remembered all the hoopla of those days. Hell, Sally watched the twins when they were little. Their own girls were just a couple years younger. He'd been stationed just down the coast. The kidnapping made all the papers. Gradually, though, they were mentioned less and less and finally by the time he joined the force not at all. He had pictures of them from high school. Took them from the files just to have on hand. Doubtlessly two little sluts banging anything that walked on three legs.

  "Oh my God, Hank... the twins are missing!"

  "Well, yeah, Sally... they've probably run off with those surfer dudes they're always hanging with. Give 'em a week and they'll be back."

  "I can't believe you sometimes, Hank. What if it was our daughters who were missing?"

  He was still in the military but making plans to get out. There were rumblings of another war brewing in the Middle East. He'd managed to miss the last one. This time he might not be so lucky. They'd ship his ass out, sure enough. Yeah, that's all he needed... to be stuck on a ship for six months while patrolling enemy seas filled with ragheads and rowboats full of explosives just looking for a target to hit. The Captain had already retired. Took a job with the Sheriff's Department in Los Angeles. Made sure to send out feelers Hank's way. They had a lot going on, him and the Captain. They'd made some money together, sure enough. No sense stopping now. Besides, the Captain wasn’t the type who took no for an answer. If Hank didn’t agree the odds were a couple guys with bent noses and serious looks would show up in the middle of the night to set things straight.

  "That's a shame, Sally. I'm sorry I sounded flippant about it... but you know as well as I do how those Picany girls are. Christ, you're the one who didn’t want them hanging around Amy after

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  "What happened the year before they disappeared."

  Amy, their oldest, looked up to the twins. Always had. They'd virtually grown up together. He'd gotten Sally a job babysitting the Picany girls, mostly so he had more time to play around with their mother. A few years younger than the twins, Amy'd crept out of the house late one night unannounced. He figured it was to meet the Picany girls and yep, later he found out for sure. All he knew was he got a call at three o'clock in the morning from a distraught Sally saying how she'd heard an odd noise, got up to check it out, and discovered Amy's empty bed. After searching the house, she'd telephoned Hank down at the depot where he was a
ssigned the midnight shift.

  By the time he found someone to take his place and made it home, Amy had reappeared. Hell, he could hear Sally yelling at the girl a block away. Bellowing. Sally got that way when Hank wasn’t there to calm her ass down. As soon as he walked into the door Amy ran to him like he'd protect her. Which of course he would. Told him between great burbling gasps how her cat Tito had jumped out the window and she was just out looking for him. Did he believe her? Hell no. But just having her home safe and sound mitigated any feelings of reprisal he might have had. Her mother had other ideas, however.

  "You're so grounded, girl. I'm taking you to school each morning and picking you up in the afternoon. And that’s the only place you're going."

  "But mom... my skating party's this weekend..."

  "Yeah, well you can forget that shit, Amy. There's no way I'm allowing you out of the house. Hell, you'll be lucky if I don’t chain you to your bed from now on."

  "Dad! Do something! Mom's out of control again."

  Again. That was the operative word. He hadn’t realized Sally was obsessive compulsive on top of being manic depressive when they met. She kept her afflictions under wraps right up until they married. But Lord, did she let the cat out of the bag on their wedding night. Yeah, he had a few drinks at the reception. Wasn’t that to be expected? A fellow only got married once, maybe twice if he was lucky. You'd think he'd fucked half Sally's entourage the way she erupted, though. Calling him names even a sailor like him had never heard before and then storming out on him.

  They hadn’t consummated their marriage for over a month after that. While he was in the bathroom heaving she'd packed up and left him stranded at the hotel in San Francisco. She commandeered his car and drove home to her parents. More than likely to their I told you so's as well. Assholes They'd never liked Hank Lupo, career military man. You can do so much better than him, Sally. Why are you wasting your time on that man? What... did they think he was hard of hearing?