Peppermint Soul (Liza McNairy Mysteries Book 1)
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"Did I tell you Marcy called, Danners?"
"When are we meeting her?"
"Take me to Compton first and maybe we'll stop by her place on the way home."
Chapter 48—Whores and Bores
(Taking Out the Trash)
"I've had it with those detectives you hired, Allen. They keep coming by when they know you're not here. You should hear the way they speak to me. They're actually accusing me of killing someone."
"I'll talk to them, Paula."
"No... you'll fire them, Allen... or I will."
"They're paid up through the end of the month... we may as well let them continue until then, Paula. They're not going to refund the money."
Christ, Allen and his fucking money. Always pinching pennies. He wasn’t like that when they first married. That's what she found so attractive about him. Now, he was like an old woman, worried over each and every dollar he spent.
"But you'll fire them next month?"
"If that's what you want, I'll get rid of them, Paula. I just thought..."
"They're not going to find the girls, Allen. You know that too. They're just a couple shysters who got lucky a few times."
He'd never fire them. No... instead he'd go behind her back to keep them on the case, paying them under the table. Unless she made that impossible. She had as much right to that money as Allen. By revoking third party withdrawal from the account unless they both authorized it she'd effectively make it impossible for McNairy and Forthright to draw down on the money card Allen provided them.
How could anyone believe a mother would be involved in her children's death? She'd always been a good person, a caring soul. She attended every school event the twins participated in, mostly without their father, who had always been too busy for such trivialities. If anyone should be a suspect, it'd be him. But those detectives all but accused her of killing her own daughters, or at least knowing who did.
That's what you got by believing in the inherent goodness of humanity. If she'd been more assertive—more type A, perhaps—that faggot Forthright would never have had the temerity to insinuate that she murdered Missy and Melinda. Of course a man like that never had any children of his own. He couldn’t know the awesome responsibility a mother took on by giving birth. But the woman should have known better. McNairy just stood there letting Forthright berate her.
Those two had a sweet deal going. Allen was paying them each a thousand dollars a day plus expenses. And how long had they been at it? At least a couple months now... without any results to boot. Not even a new theory as to what happened to the twins that long ago day, other than to imply she had a motive. How dare they.
"They're our last hope, Paula."
Was he that naïve? Had he become so desperate? She too missed the girls dreadfully but she wasn’t about to allow that to skew her judgment. Allen was better than that. It had to be the alcohol. She wanted to grab hold of him, to shake him, to tell him to wake up! But the man was already drunk so what good would it do?
She hated the new doctor too. If only Olay was still around. But the man got what he deserved. All those years of feeding her pills she didn’t need, keeping her hooked so he could reap the benefits. She was tired of all of the bullshit: all the doctors, the police, and especially those so-called private eyes: the wannabe psychic who'd be hard pressed to find his own genitals even if he were standing in front of a mirror and that bottle blonde who paraded herself around like some out of work porn star. Yeah, those tits are really real.
Allen claimed that the girls were still alive... the detectives said so, or at least the one who was supposedly a psychic. If that was so, where were they? They were probably just telling Allen what he wanted to hear and he was too out of it to realize the truth. But did she really desire that: to know what happened to the girls? Wasn’t it better to keep hold of hope rather than knowing the worst?
If they were alive, then it meant they'd stayed away on purpose. Could she even go there? They were such good girls growing up. Why couldn’t they stay seven years old forever? It wasn’t until they reached their teens that the trouble began. The boys, the partying, all the things that go along with becoming an adult way too quickly. If only they'd been able to stay in Malibu Hills instead of moving to Santa Monica things might have gone better.
"You're right, Allen. I'll try to be more patient."
That's what they wanted, all of them... for her to shut up and go with the flow. Be a good girl, Paula... don't rock the boat. Let us do our thing and you just sit there looking stupid. That's what you do best. Maybe she'd call Hank... see if he wanted to meet up later for a drink. At least that man listened to her... not like the rest of them.
Chapter 49—Pimps
(And Skimps)
1
He didn’t get it. Why did McNairy want him to divulge the fact that Paula Picany was having an affair to Allen? Wasn’t that taking an unnecessary chance? The man might well shit-can all three of them. After all, they were supposed to be solving the mystery of his daughters' disappearance, not checking up on his wife's nocturnal activities.
Reilly told himself that if he needed to know, McNairy would have illuminated him as to the plan. He had to be sincere. That was the key to making it all believable. Otherwise, Allen Picany might well think he was simply being set up. And he was... but for what?
"We believe Paula Picany is responsible for at least two murders, Reilly."
"Have you alerted the authorities, Danners?"
"We have nothing concrete... only circumstantial evidence. We're hoping that by informing her husband about the possibility of her having an affair, we might jostle things up a bit."
"What if you're right and she strikes again? Is Lupo in danger? How about us?"
"Hank Lupo can take care of himself, Reilly. And no, I doubt she'll go after any of us. Still, keep your eyes open. You need to let us know if she contacts anyone."
"Sure, Liza... I can do that."
"Has she made any moves in the last few days?"
"Nope... she's been home, Danners."
"Probably recuperating... from the looks of Hank Lupo, they had quite a time together."
Was it only him or did Danners sound jealous? Liza looked particularly alluring. Was she finally seeing someone? Or had she scored some of the real stuff this time? He wondered how the woman managed such a high profile life while staying stoned nearly every waking hour but he supposed a lot of the pretty people did the same thing. Look at Phillip Seymour Hoffman... the man won Academy Awards with needles stuck up his ass for years and no one suspected.
"Allen Picany has authorized another two weeks of surveillance on both Paula and Hank, Reilly. We'd also like you to keep tabs on Allen Picany. I know it’s a lot to ask. Are you up for it?"
"Not a problem, Liza... but I will need a little kicker. Three tails are harder to maintain than one."
"Three hundred a day sound okay?"
"Three fifty sounds better."
"You're right, Reilly... it does. Done... you need to stay on top of them... especially Paula Picany. Make sure to call us if she makes any odd moves."
So she was their girl. Did they think the mother actually had something to do with the twins' disappearance too? He'd heard of such cases but usually it involved money... life insurance policies and what not. Neither girl had any. Even if they did, it'd be more likely for the father to cash them in, not the mother.
No... they might suspect Paula Picany of murder, but not of her own children. She was getting revenge. But what did Johm and Dr. Olay have to do with the twins? He decided he needed to delve more deeply into the case that was his wont. Someone was hiding something, and it might be worth something to them to keep it quiet.
Cash flow
2
Was an increasingly embarrassing problem. Hell, he didn’t have enough money to put gas in his tank yesterday. Instead, he resorted to pumping and running, dodging into a gas station beside one of those enormous pickup trucks, filling
his tank half way, and driving off before anyone was the wiser. Did they have cameras? Maybe. But he'd deal with that shit when and if it happened. At least he had gas for a few days.
He was tired of living like that, always wondering where the rent money was coming from, forever overextending his debit card. And mother... the payments he was supposed to be making on her house were dangerously in arrears. Foreclosure loomed.
Those assholes at the Bureau made it next to impossible to secure another position in the information technology field what with feeding any potential employers bogus background information on him. If things continued he'd be forced to move back to East Los Angeles and start pimping out his sisters... his sistas, as they said back there.
Chapter 50—Bullets over Broadway
(Cockroach City)
1
He hated himself at times, like he was nothing but an imposter hiding behind a façade of normalcy. Incredibly it had less to do with his sexual orientation than with the methods they were compelled to use to solve these old crimes. But were they actually forced? Wasn’t it more likely they simply enjoyed taking shortcuts whenever possible?
This neighborhood frightened him. He'd rather go inside with Liza but leaving the car alone wasn’t advisable, not here. They'd come back to nothing but a hulk and end up having to walk. Jesus... they had medical marijuana now... when were the powers that be going to lessen the reins on other drugs? Liza wouldn’t be forced into going into Compton every couple of months just to buy. Plus they'd regulate the purity, not like now, never knowing when she was going to get a bad bundle.
They were down on Broadway... heart of the ghetto. Black faces everywhere, bebopping by the car staring inside scoping out the lone white man scrunched down in the driver's seat with just a smidgen of gun peeking out of his jacket, enough to keep the wolves at bay, or so he hoped. He ought to refuse Liza's request next time she asked him to bring her here but he knew he wouldn’t. Whatever she asked of him, he'd do it, even if it meant death.
She was taking too long. It never took more than a few minutes and Liza'd been gone nearly fifteen minutes. Time to take a look. Stepping from the car he armed the alarm and headed to the doorway he'd watched Liza enter not so long ago. The building smelled of cockroaches and formaldehyde. Like it'd been a mortuary in a previous incarnation. One dim bulb lighted the hallway. What room had she said? One twelve? He thought so.
About the time he was working up the courage to knock he heard what sounded like a muffled scream. Liza's voice calling out to him. The door surrendered with one kick. Inside, a crowd of faces looked up at him and then at the gun, surprised at this sudden turn of events. One of them had Liza, an arm around her throat, using her as a shield. The Glock 9MM in Danner's hand barked one shot and a bright red flower blossomed on the dude's forehead. Down he went. Two more shots and a couple more bodies hit the floor. The others scrambled around all of them looking for whatever exit they could find, and fast. Whitey was here and he was on a killing spree.
"Come on, sweetie. We need to go... now."
Liza ducked when the shooting started. Smart girl. They'd torn off her blouse and bra and had partially depantsed her, the fuckers. Taking off his own shirt off he put it over her trembling shoulders and helped her to her feet. Screams were erupting from all sides, frightened residents doubtlessly diving for cover and calling for their children to do the same. How could people live like this?
"Just a second... I need my stuff."
Damn it. He'd just killed three men for her and all she could think of was smack? Still, that's why they were here. He sure didn’t want to come back any time soon. The rest of the maggots were lucky they cleared out when they did. Danners was ready to gun down the lot of them. Danners owed his life to her.
"If you ever need anyone to talk with, Danners, call me. I know how hard it must be for you."
When he was first released from prison after ten long years, he had no idea what to do with his time. A settlement with the county was coming so money wasn’t an issue. But just being back in a society that shunned not only ex-convicts but queers as well made things doubly difficult for him. Finally, he'd decided to end it all. But he owed a goodbye to Liza McNairy first.
"No worries, girlfriend."
But how did you tell someone you loved that you were cashing in your chips? He had no idea. When his own mother left him at Union Station while she drove her car into the retention pond close by, she hadn’t said a word of farewell to him... only to wait... that she'd be back soon. He supposed he could do the same thing but he knew how it felt to be deceived and he didn’t like it.
"Tell me what's wrong, Danners... don’t do this to yourself."
"I just can't
2
"Keep on any longer, Liza."
"Keep on what?"
"Keep on keeping on... I've had it. I'm thinking of checking out."
"Danners... I need you, sweetie. If you really feel that way, come over here and we'll do it together."
They'd been working their first case and it was going for shit, like this one. A mother had vanished after dropping off her kids at school one morning. Simply disappeared without a trace. The husband was of course the prime suspect—they were going through a contentious divorce—but his alibi was solid and there were no witnesses to the abduction, if indeed that's what it was.
That's when Danners had the brainstorm... rather than simply allowing the trail to unfold on its own, why not help it along? Liza agreed. But it weighed on him... the guilt over using the suffering of others to glorify himself. Turned out one of the kids knew where his mother went... she'd made him promise not to say a word to anyone. But with a bit of cajoling from Danners and Liza he finally confessed how his mother had a boyfriend who he'd met a time or two and how they talked of hitchhiking to Florida, leaving all their possessions behind.
It was a break they'd been waiting for, but finding the mother alive also sent the son into a pit of depression from which he never emerged. He ended up taking a gun to his entire family before sending a final bullet through his own head, thus ending the sorrow he'd carried for the past fifteen years. Danners understood. So he drove over to Liza's that night with every intention of doing the same thing... a bullet for her and one for him.
Liza surprised him though. The minute she answered the door she raised her Smith and Wesson .45 to his face, centered it right between his eyes, and told him to count to three. His first instinct was to pull his own pistol to protect himself. But then it occurred to him how ludicrous that was... he'd come there to die and Liza was simply helping him along. There was a look in her eyes that said: try me, big boy.
"One..."
He wondered why his voice quavered like that. He sounded like a little girl, scared and alone, ready to piss himself, just like he felt that day in Union Station when the police officer asked him if he was by himself and he said no he was just waiting for his mother to return but it'd been six hours and he knew she was never coming back yet he lied anyway.
"Two..."
He saw her finger tense on the trigger and he remembered all those days inside the prison cell so small he could hardly even walk in a circle and how the cold stainless steel toilet always made him hate going to the bathroom and how the guards all came by and hooted at him while he showered in cold water with but a rag to dry himself off and all the plans he made for when he was finally exonerated and was this it? Was this the best he could do?
The tip of his tongue went to his lips, ready to sound the three. He looked down the barrel of the Smith and Wesson at the bullet that would kill him. It seemed cold and shiny, uncaring, ready to do the job it'd been created to do. Liza braced the gun with both hands, ready for the recoil, and by the look in her eyes he knew she was determined to do this right... that the next bullet she fired after the one that killed him would burrow its way through her brain and the two of them would be found sometime later, the victims of a murder-suicide, or perhaps simply a murder.
Chapter 51—Complaints
(And Holes with no Bottoms)
1
He didn’t much like the thought of McNairy and Forthright solving a case he'd given into long ago. The Captain would have his balls for it. At the same time, however, at least Paula might finally have some closure.
Yeah, the twins were alive. He knew that. He'd known it for years. That was one of the reasons the Captain pegged him to lead the cold case unit. One of many. People disappeared all the time in Los Angeles County and most of them were never found. They were just gone, dust, languishing in a graves outside of town, in that perpetual desert so full of holes and foreboding.
Sometimes it was better that they weren’t found. People changed after so many years. Mothers no longer recognized children... wives didn’t want to go back to their husbands... fathers were tired of the responsibilities that came with kids. Everyone had a reason to run but few had any inclination to return once gone.
Maybe Sally was right. He was getting too old for this shit. Time to hang up the badge, pension be damned. He had the money. The thing was, he enjoyed the limelight... the feeling of being needed... the power rush that went along with his job.
"What are you thinking about, Hank? You seem a thousand miles away."
Paula looked every bit her age tonight. He wasn’t sure why he'd agreed to even meet her. It was dangerous, carrying on with a woman as fragile and on edge as she seemed. If she slipped over, the odds were good she'd drag him right along. Perhaps that's what made it so intriguing.