Trifecta

by Pam Richter

She had read the police reports and had talked to a Sergeant Riveras on the telephone. He had told her how Brian had been found by a motorist, who had been driving by the roadside where Brian had been dumped. The policeman said he didn't think Brian was beaten up at the site where he was found, but taken there later. There had not been enough blood on the roadside to account for his injuries. So her brother had been beaten up in another place and then taken to East Los Angeles.

  Sergeant Riveras said that the chances of finding the perpetrator was not very probable in the absence of any evidence. Since all of Brian's possessions, his wallet, watch, and even his shoes were missing, they were guessing that it had been a thief.

  There was evidence of a mighty struggle, because of the injuries, but any indication of the identity of the attacker was obliterated by hospital workers later, in a desperate attempt to save Brian's life. The ambulance drivers were too rushed and had trampled the site where Brian was discovered. There were no clues as to where the beating had taken place or who had done it.

  As Julia got out of the shower she was very sad, but that emotion was almost surmounted by her anger. Brian had only been twenty-five years old. He had his whole life ahead of him. He had a wonderful career that he loved, and he had a girlfriend who had loved him. Someone in this horrible town had killed him for his watch and some money.

  Julia hated Los Angeles.

  CHAPTER 7

  After Robin left Julia at Cedars Sinai Hospital, the judge was extremely angry when he finally raced into court, straightening his tie and very late. The judge glowered at him under bushy, angry brows and Robin feigned the correct emotions; contrite, properly respectful and sorry that he had held up the proceedings, citing a family emergency as the reason for his tardiness. The judge ominously said he would let it go, this time.

  The only thing Robin was actually sorry about was that he couldn't be in two places at once. He had not wanted to leave Julia. Especially with that pig-headed, arrogant prick of a boyfriend with his thinning hair and air of superiority.

  On the other hand, Robin was eager to present his case. He was defending a young man who declared that he did not beat and stalk his former girlfriend. They were serious charges. Robin believed him. The boy was only twenty years old and his girlfriend, piqued that he had ended their relationship, had brought the charges against him as a sadistic revenge.

  Robin got up when it was his turn to speak to the district attorney, explaining that this young man would not even eat a shrimp. Robin paused dramatically and then explained that because his client loved and respected all living things, he was a vegetarian. Now he was accused of assault against a woman. Robin made a careful summation of the reasons he believed that it would be wrong for the young man to be remanded to jail, and for this case to go to a jury trial.

  As Robin left the courthouse later that day he felt confident he had done a good job. The man he was defending had an excellent chance of beating the false charges without going to jail or through a jury trial. The district attorney had believed Robin, and his client was out on bail. The case might not even have to go to the grand jury.

  When Robin went back to the office he did paper work on several other cases, made telephone calls, prepared depositions, and arranged for an independent medical exam in a workers' compensation case, but his thoughts were with Julia Monay. It was hard for him to believe that she really might have something going with that obnoxious, supercilious doctor. He wanted to give her credit for a little better taste in men.

  He realized later, when he called out for food, that he had been waiting for her phone call all day long. He'd checked his home number for messages about ten times, but he decided to try one more time. It was almost nine o'clock. He was tired.

  Robin impatiently waited two endless days for Julia to call him. Then he called the mechanics at the service station to find out what Julia's plans were for her BMW. Julio told Robin that the lady had directed him to make preparations to send it back to Boston, as she was already home.

  Robin was disconcerted because Julia had promised that she would call him. Now she was thousands of miles away, and probably had no intention of contacting him.

  Well, Robin thought, he would be eating crow with his friends Tony and Jay for a while. But that didn't matter. He made immediate plans for a date with Sarah, a sizzling redhead, thinking, Hell with it. He could have any woman he wanted. He would have a damn good time tonight and forget the golden haired, stuck-up snob from Boston.

  The next morning, when the telephone rang at his office he grabbed his head in misery. He had fled to work on a Saturday to escape Sarah, who was probably still asleep.

  Robin had had a bad moment, when he got up that morning, disoriented and hung-over, seeing Sarah in his bed. It had somehow been all wrong. He never brought women to his home anyway, but rather stayed until the wee hours at their places, and then always left before dawn. This morning he had taken three aspirin and driven to the office, in too much of a rush to escape to even to consider making coffee.

  He had a pounding headache. But it had been worth it, he thought, as he reached for the damn telephone to stop the ringing which reverberated painfully throughout his cranium. He thought it was worth it, anyway, and believed he had had a good time, but the memory was a little fuzzy. He had one hell of a hangover.

  "Is Robin there?" A crisp Boston accent. It was Julia! Robin clutched at his head, glad his secretary was not there. She would have answered, Law Office, and given him away.

  "This is Robin," he answered, hoping that he was thinking straight through the gigantic throbbing.

  "This is Julia Monay, in Boston."

  Act casual, Robin thought to himself. "Yes?"

  "Do you remember who I am?"

  "Of course," Robin said.

  "Well, I wanted to ask you some questions about the circumstances at the hospital, with my brother, Brian."

  "Oh?"

  "I was thinking about what you said. At first I thought there was a cover up. But then I remembered that you told me not to say anything about Brian's last words. And I thought maybe there was something more. That perhaps this was not random violence, and you were trying to keep me quiet so I would be safe."

  "Ah-huh."

  "Are you okay? Should I call back another time?" Julia asked. She sounded impatient.

  "No! Don't hang up. I really don't have anything concrete to tell you."

  "You saw that something was wrong. And either my brother's death was hastened by a routine hospital mistake, or..."

  "Or what?" Robin asked. This woman was smart.

  "Or he was murdered."

  "What makes you think that?" Robin asked.

  "The way you were acting. The cover-up at the hospital. The fact that his body was taken away from the place where he was beaten...and dropped somewhere else."

  Her voice almost broke and he felt very sad for her. "Maybe it would be better if you just let it go, Julia," Robin said gently.

  "I tried, and I can't. I know it won't bring him back." Julia's voice was now a whisper. He could tell she was trying hard to control herself, not to cry. "We had the funeral yesterday. I finally decided I had to know."

  "It might not be wise to stir things up."

  Julia went on as though he had not spoken, "I'm going to walk in his shoes, do all the things he did, and find out for myself. I'm coming back tomorrow."

  Robin thumped the speaker on his phone so he could massage his temples. "I don't think that's a good idea."

  "My brother was on an assignment, working for Aaron Quijada. He was ghost writing an autobiography. I called and persuaded Mr. Quijada to let me try to complete the work."

  Robin said, "I'm afraid that's a very bad plan."

  "So you actually think he was murdered?"

  "I think you should forget the whole thing."

  "It's true, then," Julia said.

  "You should stay home. You might put yourself in danger."

  "I appreciate your con
cern. But I'm arriving tomorrow."

  "Listen. I know this Aaron Quijada. He'll be running for governor in the next election. This is very hush, hush information, because he hasn't declared himself a candidate. He's a powerful man."

  "I know about him," Julia said. "I did some research. But I need to know what you found out at the hospital."

  "I'm not going to tell you."

  "Well then, I'll have to find out for myself."

  There was no way he could deter her, Robin decided. He did want to see her, of course, but not by having her come to Los Angeles and set herself up in some seriously jeopardizing circumstances.

  "Listen," Robin said, "why don't you stay in Boston. I'll come, later in the week, and tell you what I know. I'll go to Cedars-Sinai Hospital, first, and ask around. Hell, I'll even go and speak to Aaron Quijada myself."

  There was a long pause. "That's a generous offer. But now I know I have to come. The police believe it was a robbery and won't look into it any further, because there isn't any physical evidence for them to think otherwise. If you would just tell me what you heard, or saw, when you went back to Brian's hospital room that morning?"

  "I will. But only if you tell me what Brian said. His last words."

  "Not over the phone," Julia answered.

  "I'll pick you up at the airport."

  "Julio's driving my car there. Then I was planning to go directly to Mr. Quijada's residence."

  "Julio, from the service station?" Robin was surprised. He thought they were sending the car back to Boston.

  "Yes. Let's meet at the Polo Lounge some evening. I'll be staying at the Beverly Hills Hotel."

  That could be disastrous, Robin thought. There were too many people he knew that might casually come over to say hello. And then she would find out that he was not a mechanic. But that was foolish now, Robin reflected. This whole situation was getting too serious for silly pretensions. He would have to tell the truth about himself as soon as he saw her. Still, he didn't want to meet with her at the Polo Lounge. "Tell you what. I'll start looking into this situation. It would be better if we're not seen together."

  Robin got her reluctant promise to come to his place after she saw Aaron Quijada. She was not happy about it, but seemed to think it preferable to his coming to her hotel room. She wanted his information very badly.

  CHAPTER 8

  For once, Julia was glad to be away from her beloved city of Boston. The memories there had been too painful, Brian's absence felt in each familiar street she was on, each old building she passed. And it was wonderful to drive her own little car again, even in this enormous, sprawling city of Los Angeles.

  She was exulting that her car was responsive and seemed to be in perfect mechanical condition as she took the 101 Freeway toward the Sunset Boulevard exit ramp. Robin had not been wrong when he had advised her about where to fix the car.

  She hoped Robin would not be a problem when she finally spoke to him tonight, as he had been on the phone. He had been very obstinate. Face to face, they would trade information.

  Julia was puzzled because Robin did not seem at all like her stereotype of a typical mechanic. She couldn't quite picture him guzzling beer and scratching his belly as he watched football games with his cronies. No, Robin was obviously intelligent, well educated, articulate, likeable and very stubborn. But Julia felt confident that she would find out everything he knew, eventually. He had a gigantic crush on her. Otherwise he wouldn't have made the offer to come to Boston, or to start an investigation on his own. But this infatuation would not prove to be a problem either. She had devised a plan to cool his obsession.

  As Julia exited the freeway, she reminded herself that she would be gentle. Robin had been kind and extremely helpful. Besides, she liked him and didn't want to hurt his feelings. She smiled when she thought about him in his special suit for going to court. Her best friend, Linda, whom she had known and traded secrets with from the time they were both five years old, would have considered him a hunk. But Linda hadn't seen him in old torn jeans with grease under his fingernails, or that awful truck he had been driving.

  Thoughts of Robin were supplanted by those of Aaron Quijada, whom she was going to meet in a few minutes. She had to get the job that Brian had begun, writing Quijada's memoir. From that vantage point, taking brother's place in Los Angeles, she might be able to piece together information about what had really caused his death. The funeral had been just yesterday and she still felt she was in a sad daze, but she reminded herself that she had to concentrate foremost on getting the job.

  Julia had come on this quest as a means of resolving things for herself so she could get on with her life. If she didn't find out, she knew she would always regret it. And she was angry enough now that she wanted revenge against the person who had beaten Brian and ultimately caused his death.

  Julia passed through West Hollywood, with it's gigantic billboards, the Hollywood Hills to her right, with their twinkling lights in the beautiful homes in the hills, and through the 'flats' of Beverly Hills. Sunset Boulevard became curvy as she headed toward Bel-Air, where Aaron Quijada lived, during the quiet hours of twilight. Certain parts of Los Angeles were very beautiful, Julia mused, a little surprised at the lush vegetation and rustic, country-like loveliness as she turned right into the Bel-Air Estates, on Bel-Air Road, from Sunset Boulevard. She drove slightly uphill for several miles until she reached the correct address.

  A closed iron gate barred entrance to the Quijada estate. She got out of the car and found a speaker phone in the enormous brick posts which held the gate. When she picked up the receiver a male voice at the other end asked who she was and Julia identified herself. The gates opened up and she got back into her car and drove down a long driveway as the gates closed behind her with a loud, ominous clang, audible even in the car.

  Now she was entering into the place where she believed there might be clues about what happened to her brother. She drove slowly. The large estate, which she estimated must encompass several acres, was enclosed by thick stone walls which were at least six feet high. For privacy, she assumed.

  The home itself was huge, several tall stories, also with a stone facade and peaked slate roofing. The large front windows were leaded in tiny diamonds. It was a forbidding structure, almost like a medieval castle. Enormous oaks surrounded the home, adding to the sinister illusion. There were flower gardens which extended around to the back, but they were all in shadows at the end of the day and did not brighten the exterior of the place. The drive was a wide circle and she could see behind the house for a moment, when she made the expansive curve. There was a large patio, a swimming pool and tennis courts beyond the house.

  As Julia stopped, the front door opened and a man stood haloed in the light from inside the house. He was heavy and dark. Beside him stood a massive dog. She couldn't make out the man's features, but they gradually became defined when she walked up the steps toward him. He was probably in his fifties, with thick black hair that was slicked straight back from his face. The eyes were the most extraordinary feature in the rather heavy face. They were so dark they reminded her of blue black plums. His mouth was large and sensual, but Julia had stopped looking at the man because the dog was moving forward toward her, a low growl in its throat.

  Julia had never seen such a large animal. Normally not intimidated by dogs, she stood there, perfectly still, until the dog came up to her with his head lifted and sniffed audibly at her. Its nose was wet, she could feel the moisture as the massive head bent down to snuffle at her hand.

  "Bruno," the man said sternly. The dog did not turn around but backed up, stiff legged, until he stood by his master again.

  "He's just a sweet, big puppy," the man said. "Now he knows you are female. Bruno would never attack a woman."

  Wonderfully comforting, Julia thought. It wouldn't be easy sneaking around with that enormous dog on the premises. Julia felt certain that the mystery of what had happened to her brother would be revealed here. There wer
e secrets that were hiding. She planned to explore every crevice of the place. If she got the job.

  Aaron Quijada introduced himself and led her into his home. The entrance hallway had a fountain with the statue of a nude boy and girl in the center, holding hands. They walked around it and down a few steps into the sunken living room, which seemed spacious as a football field. Aaron indicated a white brocade couch for her, and he sat down in a leather chair.

  He had obviously been expecting her and a silver service with coffee was on the table in front of her, with several plates offering cakes and cookies. Aaron poured her a cup of coffee and took one himself.

  "You have a strong resemblance to your brother," Quijada said, as he settled back comfortably. "I was surprised and saddened by his death. We had become good friends."

  Julia nodded and waited.

  "We had been working together for a couple of months, as you know. I'll take you back to the cottage where Brian was staying. You can look over his notes. I have to admit, I didn't know if this was a good idea, your finishing up his work, until you told me that no one else could decipher his writing. I went back there and tried to understand what he had written down, and could not make out one word."

  Julia sighed deeply, unaware that she did so. "We made up a kind of shorthand, when we were just little kids. Each figure represents a thought rather than a word. It's almost as fast as typing. But no one else can read it. He would have transposed those notes to his computer, though."

  "Yes. Well, I know computers, and that was a mystery, too. He didn't seem to have much written down, although when we were together he took copious notes."

  Julia wasn't surprised. Brian always used codes when he was writing a first draft. Until you knew the code and put it in the computer, the work would not show up at all, even in the computer's directory. Brian had not liked anyone seeing his writing until it was complete. She just hoped she could figure out what the codes were so she could gain access to his files. Then she would have all of the information. Maybe there would be cryptic messages buried within that would disclose more about his death.