Peppermint Soul (Liza McNairy Mysteries Book 1)

by Dan Glover

  When she called, Paula seemed nearly manic. Enough so that it worried him what she might do if he refused to see her. She knew where he lived, knew his wife. And she was just nuts enough to go there and relate the whole sordid story of their years-long affair. Still, they were in this together... if Paula gave him away, she was basically damning herself too. Did she even remember what happened? Sometimes he wondered, especially when she got into one of her moods, like tonight.

  "Just a case I'm working on, Paula. I can't seem to let it go."

  "Tell me about it.... maybe talking will help."

  I'm thinking about how I colluded to manipulate that kidnapping all those years ago. You know the one I mean. You, an older woman who seduced a young soldier home on leave, and me that soldier. I'm thinking how your husband wanted to teach them a lesson... one they'd never forget. I'm wondering how it all morphed into something far more sinister and whether Allen even remembers any of it now.

  He looked at her lying in bed next to him yet her eyes were focused upon something a thousand miles away. Was she tired of the charade? They talked about everything but the twins. Was it time to enlighten the woman as to what he knew? Or was that redundant? Was she already aware of it all? And like a bad dream, did she believe that by not discussing it, none of those actions ever occurred?

  "I'm thinking we ought to stop this, Paula."

  "Allen knows."

  "Allen knows about what? Our affair? How could that be? We've always been careful. You didn’t do something stupid and go ahead and confess, did you?"

  "Of course not. You know me better than that, Hank. He confronted me last night about it. Someone came to the house. They told him we're seeing each other. He plans on going to your superiors and filing a complaint."

  Well fuck me running. So it was finally happening, just as he knew it would. He'd warned her about it... from that first day they spent together after his marriage. He couldn’t get enough of Paula in those days. But it was always like she wanted to be caught. Guilty conscious, maybe? Hell, maybe he did too. Perhaps they could finally stop pretending. It'd mean a divorce... probably a demotion at least, possibly even dismissal. But so what... he'd manage. Maybe he could take up with Liza and Danners... make it a threesome. Might be fun.

  2

  "But who else knows about us, Paula?"

  "How do I know? Allen wouldn’t tell me who it was. I denied it all but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. He was drunk, as usual. Said something about those two private eyes he hired... that they had me tailed. Apparently they're of the opinion I had something to do with my own daughters' kidnapping. Not only that, they virtually accused me of murder."

  "McNairy and Forthright had you followed? So that's how they knew where I was."

  "What're you talking about, Hank?"

  "The last time we saw each other... after you'd gone they showed up at my door. Right here at my crash pad. No one knows about this place, though. Well, other than you..."

  "And five hundred other women... right, Hank?"

  "Oh come on, Paula... don’t do that. I've got to deal with Sally's green-eyed monster all the time. She's forever convinced I'm out fucking any woman who'll stand still long enough for me to slip it in."

  "So those psychics showed up here? What'd they say?"

  "Apparently they were worried about me. Christ, I thought they'd break the door down they were knocking so hard."

  "I don’t get it. You're a big boy, Hank. So what if you take a few days off? You deserve it."

  "Mixed signals... they'd stopped by the house and talked to Sally. She told them I was out of town on business. But they'd already talked to Marcy, my assistant, and she told them I was home sick. To tell the truth, I've been wracking my brains trying to figure out how they knew to look here. Now I know. It's that Cooper guy... the ex-FBI agent with all the latest technology."

  "Reilly Cooper? Is that who you mean, Hank?"

  "Yeah... why, do you know him?"

  "He comes by the house all the time. Hangs out with Allen. I was beginning to think... well, that he'd turned gay on me or something. Allen, I mean. It's not like we do it any more."

  "He's the one who told Allen about us. He has to be."

  "Well, now that we've solved that mystery, Hank, how about we smoke a little more of this dope, get just a little drunker, and play around a while?"

  Chapter 52—Moonlight

  (Over the Ghetto)

  1

  There were times when it all got to be too much. Like today... finding out her supplier up and died on her and having to go in search of another... making Danners drag her around the cesspool known as Compton putting them both at risk of being robbed or worse. Still, when she finally located the shit, it was worth it. Primo. Better than ever. The tecata.

  She always knew Danners had her back and today was no different. The deal smelled bad from the beginning. Sometimes shit was too pure. Like it was pharmaceutical. That meant one of two things: either it was a set up by the Feds, or else the local police were operating a sting. But none of the black faces peering at her held any trace of authority. They were all street from the word go.

  Then the shit went down. At first she thought it was a gang rape. Seemed logical. She knew a white woman going into Compton put herself in danger but the way she carried herself had always scared them off. Like they knew she'd be hard to take down. Maybe it was the swagger she had from her Sheriff's Department days, or perhaps the bulge of the pistols she packed.

  This time, they were ready. Like someone had tipped them off. Maybe even hired them. She'd done a line, just to check the shit out. Leaned back to enjoy it. That's when one guy grabbed her arms, another her legs, and a third relieved her of her firearms, all so quickly she didn’t even realize what was happening.

  Now they were ripping at her clothes, tearing off her blouse, cutting away the bra. Pawing at her exposed tits. She kicked out involuntarily catching the guy pulling at her pants right between the legs sending him to his knees with a groan. But there were five more ready to take his place, her pants were slipping down to her ankles, and her panties were following. Nothing like an old fashioned gangbang, eh, guys.

  Biting the hand covering her mouth allowed her to scream out, just ever so briefly. But it was enough. When Danners burst through the door she thought he might freeze but he surprised her. Didn’t say a word. Simply squeezed off one round taking out the goon behind her who was using her as a shield. Put his ass down. Two more shots and a couple more bodies were twitching their last while spazzing on the floor. The rest of the gang scattered like cockroaches when the lights come one.

  "Jesus, Danners... I felt the wind from that slug."

  "I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn’t think. That asshole had it coming. They all did."

  "You saved my life."

  "Well, you saved mine too. Liza."

  After he covered her with his own shirt and tried to pull her out of the apartment she yanked away and ran back inside. A duffle bag was still sitting on the table, a pool of red growing around it. The air was ripe with the smell of blood and gunpowder. People were screaming in other apartments.

  "We gotta get out of here, Liza. Someone's bound to've called the police by now."

  "Hey... remember where we are? This is Compton, DanDan. It's gonna take a while for any cruisers to show up here, believe me."

  Stepping carefully so as not to leave footprints she retrieved what she came for, grabbed her guns off the table where they lay, and followed Danners out the door. Those were some dead motherfuckers on the floor, all right.

  The streetlights were out and a full moon flooded the deserted streets. Naked windows peered out at them as they walked to the car. Calmly. No hurry. In the distance, a siren wailed. Was it heading here? Maybe. Probably not, though. They'd just send the meat wagon and not bother with an ambulance. These assholes were forever shooting each other up... what

  2

  Were three more bodies on the floor?

&
nbsp; "My avenging angel."

  "What's that, sweet pea?"

  "You, Danners... you're my avenging angel. Thank you... those fuckers meant business tonight."

  "Someone set you up, Liza. We're getting too close for their comfort."

  "Who?"

  "Not sure... but this was no crime of convenience. Those guys were ready for you."

  He was right, of course. That explained the quality of the smack. Someone supplied those guys with top notch stuff. They'd know she'd want to sample it first. And once she did, she'd lose her edge. That's exactly when they made their move. Like it'd been choreographed. Jesus, her tits were hanging out again.

  "Don't look."

  She always warned Danners when she was about to bump. She knew he hated it but she needed another little pick me up, just to get her home. Besides, he'd forgive her. Danners forgave everything. Christ... any other man would be shaking in his shoes after what just went down but he seemed as nonchalant as if they'd simply stopped by the bakery and bought a dozen donuts or maybe a few bagels and cream cheese.

  "Let's go home and get you a change of clothes, sunshine. Still want to stop by Marcy's later?"

  At least he waited to ask until the calm set in, otherwise she'd probably tell him no. But yeah, they needed to talk to the girl. Strike while the iron was hot and all that shit. They were being paid, after all, and not to run around Compton shooting bad guys and stealing their smack. They still had a case to solve.

  "You come in with me this time, okay, Danners? Play the bad guy. I'll side with her."

  Christ, this was good stuff. Slightly off white, maybe a mixture of Mexican and Columbian, or perhaps straight out of Afghanistan. The poppy fields were flourishing there now that the Taliban had been beaten back, or so they said. Judging by the heft of the duffle bag she had enough candy to last at least five years.

  "What am I pressing her about, Liza?"

  "She belongs to a support group... other transplant recipients. She alluded to a few of them being long term survivors. I know it's a long shot but I'd like to track them down. See if you get any impressions from them, Danners."

  "I'm not sure where we're going with this."

  "Just follow my lead. Turn your collar up. Make out like you're a real man, Danners. A big bad detective, like our friend Hank Lupo. Jostle her. Threaten her. Make her pee her pants."

  Danners nodded and grinned. Hell, the guy was wearing pink and yellow with smiley face earrings. How bad could he be? Pretty bad considering what just happened. So it was worth a chance. All they needed was a name. Someone from way back in the day who might know something.

  Hank was

  3

  Obviously not overpaying Marcy. The fucking cheapskate. She lived at the edge of Pomona in a condo in one of the poorer neighborhoods. Mixed. Mecca for immigrants and rainbows. Danners probably felt right at home. Her place was a fourth floor walkup with iron bars on the windows meant to keep the residents from bailing out, not burglars from breaking in.

  She could smell bacon frying over the cacophony of babies crying and the shouts of husbands demanding sex and beer from overwrought wives and in an instant Liza was thankful she'd never fallen into that trap... the marriage game. The hallway floor felt sticky under her feet and smelt like someone'd been pissing on it. A single fifteen watt light bulb dangling from the cracked ceiling barely lighted the dark corridor lined with nondescript doors each leading into a separate and private hell.

  Danners was out of breath from climbing the stairs, bent over with hands on knees and gasping like he'd just run the New York City marathon in record time. The man needed to work out more. Age was enough of a bitch without allowing it free reign. Still, she couldn’t see him jogging and lifting weights wasn’t his strong suit either. She worried about the man. What would she do if she lost him? Probably follow shortly thereafter.

  A soft knock and Marcy answered, looking askant at Danners but holding the door open for them to enter. Marcy looked older today. Her face was pinched like she might be in pain. For just a moment Liza thought about offering her some of her secret powder but then good sense intruded. The woman worked for the Sheriff's Department, for Christ's sake. Here, Marcy... have a line on me. I got plenty.

  Chapter 53—Tin Soldiers

  (And Psychopaths)

  He should have known it was that asshole detective all along. While he was out busting balls to make a living, Paula was shacking up with the man charged with finding their daughters. What could she be thinking? Did the two of them have something to do with the twins' disappearance? Yesterday, he'd have said Paula could never do anything against those girls. Now... hell, what did he know anyway?

  All the times Hank Lupo used to come by the house when the girls were little. He'd been in the armed services during those years, stationed just down the way. A petty officer or some such... a decorated man, sure enough. The man seemed to enjoy showing off all that tin on his chest, especially around Paula. Flaunting it. Parading around like some kind of war hero when the man hadn’t even been out of the country. Hell, he must have been blind not to have seen it then. And to think he'd been instrumental in setting it all up.

  Hank had come to him as a friend asking if the twins might visit sometimes. He was away so much and Sally and the kids were all on their own and boy it'd be such a help if she had something to do with her time... like babysitting the girls. He didn’t want any money for it. Just the pleasure of the twins' company... the whole family loved them. Allen took it as a compliment. Even though they had a mansion in Malibu Hills and he was making good money he was always over his head in debt and Paula was constantly complaining about having to be home with the twins all the time.

  Hell... it'd all been a ruse. With the twins at Sally's place, Paula was free to do her cavorting with Hank and of course the other wife had her hands full what with three kids of her own. He'd been set up from the beginning and he didn’t even suspect it. Usually he saw things coming from a mile off. Or so he told himself. The fact was the blindness had him in its grip... he didn’t want to know what Paula was up to with all that free time. And just why did he suppose Hank was gone so much? Christ, he had to be an imbecile not to see it.

  "I'm going out with my girlfriends tonight, Allen. Don't wait up."

  How many times had he heard that refrain? The girlfriends... Paula spent more time with them than her own children, or with him for that matter. And all the while it'd been Hank Lupo. How could anyone lie to someone they loved so completely and naturally like that? He imagined it was easy, at least in his case. He was busy building a future for the family, like he thought they really had one. Paula knew the truth. So who was really doing the lying?

  "That's fine, sweetie... I thought I might give Hank Lupo a call tonight. We haven’t touched base with him for a while. Maybe McNairy and Forthright being on the case are stirring things up."

  "I think that's a great idea, Allen. Tell him hello for me too."

  She was good... didn’t even bat an eye. Of course she knew Hank would have a prior engagement. These games they played... the little espionages, the trickery, the deceit... when had it all started? According to Cooper, they'd been lovers most of their adult lives, though Allen had no way of corroborating that. It might well be a conjecture on his part... a way to ensure the paychecks kept coming. Still, the man had been an FBI agent. He had access to vast troves of data most people didn’t even realize existed.

  If he was really that good, though, Cooper would know more than he let on. That's how they worked, the brilliant ones. The man struck him as a psychopath. His practiced smile radiated a warmth that was lacking in the eyes. Cooper probably stood in front of a mirror for hours perfecting all those subtle facial expressions most people took for granted as genuine.

  The thing was, he liked drinking with the man. Cooper reminded him of someone he'd forgotten all about. Someone he'd lost in the maze of life, in the myriad empty bottles that flowed past him, finally bringing his destiny
to this point. A cuckold... an alcoholic miser who no longer even cried for his lost youth or the daughters who'd been gone for so long.

  "How long have you known McNairy and Forthright, Reilly?"

  "I met them both not long after Danners got out of prison."

  "Why was he in prison?"

  "Murder one... he claimed to have dreamt of some of the murders going down out at Oceanside back in the 90s. His dreams were too real for comfort so the district attorney charged him with the crimes. Won a conviction, not once but three times... three different juries... Danners was on death row for ten years. He came within six hours of execution."

  "Jesus... how'd he get out?"

  "DNA evidence implicated another man who ultimately confessed in order to save himself from the death penalty. Danners walked three days later. He got quite a settlement from Los Angeles County too... some ten million dollars. I thought he'd just disappear into the woodwork. Instead, he took up with Liza McNairy. Now, every time I turn on the television there they are."

  "Can they really do what they say?"

  "You mean that psychic shit? Hell, I don’t know, Allen. If Danners isn’t who he says, then they must have something else going for them. He's a spooky dude. He won't shake hands with just anyone. Says he sees too much he'd rather not."

  "That's right... I offered to shake hands but he ignored me. I thought he might be one of those germaphobes... you know, like that Howie guy you see on all those game shows."

  "Mandel... yeah, I thought the same thing. But if Danners shakes your hand, most likely he suspects you of something. So be glad, Allen."

  "The parents are always the prime suspects."